


i'm runnin' out of real estate

by lilliandherself



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Editor Louis, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, louis the tease (in some parts), realtor Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26997307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilliandherself/pseuds/lilliandherself
Summary: Louis can’t decide where he wants to live. Or maybe it has something to do with the cute realtor showing him around.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 157





	i'm runnin' out of real estate

**Author's Note:**

> please be kind to this fic, it's my second one I've ever posted!
> 
> thank you so much to [Sarah](https://twitter.com/soldouthaz) for being my beta for this fic, I appreciate it so so much!

_**Friday, September 15** _

Louis is running late, as usual. It’s nine-fifteen on a Friday night and he’d promised Liam that he would go clubbing with him. But, as time went on, Louis didn’t realize how long he had stayed at work, hunched over his desk, and reading the same email over and over again from how absolutely fried his brain was.

Since the day he’d started at _Cowell Reads_ over two years ago, Louis hadn’t relaxed at all. Always reading, editing, rereading, emailing, taking his work home, and forgetting to have a social life. Tonight was the one time he was going to let himself go, but instead, he had read a manuscript until his eyes were tearing up from how dry they were.

And now he’s late. It really shouldn’t be a big deal - Louis’ known for never being on time and it’s commonly joked about within his group of friends. It’s only a big deal _this_ time because of the small argument he had with Liam two days ago. 

“Okay, so you’ll go out with me on Friday. You promise?”

“Yes, Liam, I promise,” Louis rolled his eyes at his friend on the other line of the phone.

“Are you going to be late again?” Liam sounded annoyed at the subject, as he usually does. “You know how I hate when you’re late.”

“I am not always late, lay off.”

“Louis!” Liam nearly shouted, exasperated. “You were late for your mother’s wedding!”

Louis’ teeth clenched together, always hating the reminder of that fact. “I fucking promise you that I will be on time, Liam. I’m hanging up now.”

And that was that. They had agreed earlier in the conversation that Liam would pick Louis up from his current hotel room at nine twenty-seven. Louis always remembered specific times much better than anything that was in half-hour increments. But that never stopped him from not looking at the time and becoming late.

Which is how he ended up sprinting from his office at nine-oh-nine, trying to get to his hotel within ten minutes rather than his usual fifteen. He’s practically flying down the streets of London, light on his feet and heart beating erratically from adrenaline and panic. Liam would be absolutely pissed if he took more than five seconds to leave his room once he knocks on the door.

Going on a run was not uncommon in the city. Plenty of people went on early or late morning jogs. Times of the day where the streets weren’t too busy. At, now nine eighteen, on a Friday night, one should certainly not be running as fast as Louis is. Much too many accidents waiting to happen. Tripping, running into someone, doors slamming into him, and—well, not much else could happen other than those things.

And, of course, with Louis’ luck, option B happens just moments later. He glances down at his watch – nine twenty – just as a tall, broad figure shoulders him so hard he nearly falls over. “Shit,” he mutters to himself when he feels hot tea soaking into his shirt, but he never stops moving. “I’m so sorry, mate,” he calls back, seeing shocked green eyes and a slightly open mouth staring back at him. “I’d buy you another but I’m running late!”

-

Liam stands quietly in the elevator, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet while he waits to get to Floor 5. He still couldn’t believe that Louis was currently living out of a hotel ever since he impulsively sold his old flat. In Liam’s opinion, that plan was not very well thought out.

The ding of the elevator startles him out of his thoughts, prompting him to walk down the hall in front of him until he’s reached Room 504. He slips his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. Nine twenty-seven. Holding in a breath, Liam holds up his fist to knock- “Lime! Just on time!”

“What the shit,” Liam jumps back nearly two feet when the door swings open before he could even knock. “What the fuck, Louis? Are you trying to kill me at an early age?” His hand is on his chest, resting above his rapidly beating heart.

Louis steps forward to pull the door shut behind him. “I was waiting at the door and looking through the peephole,” he begins to saunter down the hall, towards the elevator Liam just came from. “Were you really holding your breath? Or am I imagining things?”

“No,” Liam mumbles, shoving Louis into the wall once he falls into step with him. “I was just… practicing.”

“Oh? Practicing what?” Louis’ lips quirk up at the corners, knowing that Liam’s about to tell him something that’s complete bullshit.

“Well, actually, I’ve been thinking about meditating or something. You know, that involves control of breathing and everything, I think,” he says the last part so low that Louis’ pretty sure he didn’t know he said it out loud.

“Sure, Liam. We’re going to pretend that it wasn’t because you have zero faith in me.”

“Whatever.” Liam pauses to sniff the air in the elevator. “Mate, why do you smell like tea? Is that ginger? You hate ginger.”

Louis shrugs, looking at himself in the mirror that’s on the backside of the elevator. “Trying new things, Lime. Nothing wrong with that.”

Somehow, Louis had gotten changed and roughly clean within the three minutes he had. Liam didn’t need to know anything other than the fact that he was, like he promised, on time. 

-

_**Saturday, September 16** _

Someone is snoring in Louis’ ear. Not a cute, short snuffle. The loudest, most obnoxious snore he’s ever heard, and it’s going straight to his brain. He lifts his hand to shove at the head resting on his shoulder. “Get the fuck off me, you beast.” _Goddamn._ It’s always been the worst part about staying over at Liam’s after a night of clubbing. Liam only snores when he falls asleep with his mouth open, which only happens if he’s falling into bed absolutely pissed.

Liam grumbles as he’s shoved, tipping over onto his back. “Woah, shit,” he throws himself back on to his side. “Nearly fell off the bed, mate.” A breath of laughter forces its way through his lips.

“What time is it?”

“Uhhh,” Liam picks up Louis’ arm, squinting at his watch. “Ten thirty-seven.”

Ten thirty-seven. Why did that time seem important? Louis can’t think of any work meetings or deadlines that he has; none are until next week. He must be thinking of a different day. It’s only Saturday, he shouldn’t have anything to do.

Relaxing again, Louis lets his arm fall half on top of Liam’s stomach, causing the other man to let out a grunt.

Roughly forty-three seconds later, Louis lets out a sigh. “Fuck.”

He did have plans today. “What’s wrong?”

And then Louis realized the situation. He is at Liam’s flat, fifteen minutes from _Junie’s Café,_ more hungover than he has been in years. Eleven. Louis is supposed to meet his new realtor at _Junie’s Café_ at eleven. On Saturday. Which is today.

_“Fuck,”_ he curses again. If he thought he was flying through the streets last night, he must be fucking ice-skating on rocket shoes from how quick he’s moving through Liam’s room. “I have that realtor meeting or whatever the fuck this morning, fuck, I completely forgot to set an alarm yesterday.”

Liam shot up in the bed when Louis let out his screech, hands holding his ears. And then he started giggling when he heard Louis’ explanation. “You are so fucking screwed.”

But Louis’ already on his way out the door, having shoved his Toms on at the same time as pulling a shirt on that he thought might be his from a previous sleepover. His sweatpants are rumpled, one leg is shoved halfway up his shin, the back of one of his shoes is folded from how roughly he put them on, his watch is – ten forty-one – facing the wrong way, and his hair looks vaguely like a ruffled pigeon.

He’s looked better, to say the least.

-

Harry is sitting at a two-person table near the back of the café, near the right of the small stage that usually holds poets. It’s ten fifty-eight and his new client still hasn’t arrived. Technically, the other man can’t be considered late, yet. But on a first meeting, it’s a common courtesy to show up a few minutes early. In Harry’s mind, at least.

He shifts in his seat, sipping his now lukewarm tea and tucking his left foot behind his other ankle. He already has a very long list of options for the new client, Mr. Tomlinson. He’s not worried about the technicalities of the meeting. Harry’s good at his job, which is why Mr. Tomlinson was told that he should ask for him in the first place. 

But, according to most others in his agency, Mr. Tomlinson has a track record of being difficult with every home he’s shown. Whether it’s finding creaky cabinets, a loose window, a leaky faucet, or even claiming that the floorboards were uneven. He sounded like a handful.

Harry checks the time again, only one minute has passed since-

“I am not late!” Harry jumps in his seat at the loud voice, eyes darting to the café door that is now wide open with a man standing in it. “I am one minute early!”

If he’s ever wanted to mock the silence in a room with cricket noises, this moment would be the perfect opportunity. As soon as the man shouted, the entire café silenced. No one is eating their pastries, drinking their tea, or tapping their shoe. All eyes went to the man.

Who, now that Harry looks at him properly, is quite attractive. Messy, admittedly, but attractive.

The man looks around the café at all the people, his shoulders slumping and his feet beginning to shuffle a bit. “Shit,” his mutter can be heard everywhere. “So sorry for the ruckus, got caught up in my head.” His eyes land on Harry. “Don’t mind me, go back to your business.”

And then he walks as quickly as possible to the table Harry is at.

“Hi,” the man across from Harry mutters into his own hands.

Harry thinks it’s okay to say he is sufficiently shocked. “Are you Mr. Tomlinson, I presume?” He’s pretty sure it is. So far, he fit the criteria that his coworkers had given him. Brown hair, big mouth.

His eyebrows rise. “After that debacle? Please, don’t call me ‘Mr. Tomlinson.’ It’s just Louis.”

_Louis._ Somehow his first name never came up when his coworkers talked about him. “Hm,” Harry hums. “Well, you’ve definitely left an impression.”

Louis chuckles, finally sitting back in his seat and bringing his hands down to the table, fingers laced together. “I don’t think it was a good one, but I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve seen much worse before.” Louis gives him a challenging look at that. “Not from clients. But I have seen worse.”

“Great,” Louis looks up to the ceiling. “I’m being compared to _non-clients._ ”

Harry lets out a bright laugh. “At least I didn’t compare you to _ex-clients_.”

“God, the horror I would feel if you did that is unimaginable,” he jokes. 

“If I ever do, I give you full permission to find another realtor immediately.”

“You’ll have to find me a new agency if that happens,” Louis muses. “I’m pretty sure everyone in yours is sick of me.”

Harry waves him off, trying not to think of why this man looks so familiar. It’s as if he saw him in a dream or something. “You didn’t hear this from me, but my coworkers tend to be weak when it comes to difficult clients.”

“Oi,” Louis says lightly. “How am I difficult?”

“Um, well, no, I didn’t mean- I meant that, you know-” Harry splutters on, slowly becoming aware of the grin on Louis’ face. His face goes blank and he sits up straight. “Mr. Tomlinson, with all due respect, you’re a bastard for that.”

The laugh that comes out of Louis is one that he’s only ever heard from himself when around his family or Liam. Not around any strangers and _definitely_ not in front of his previous realtors. But he thinks to himself, none of them were funny.

“What a way to speak to a client. You’ll be hearing about this in a Yelp review.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, which gives Louis a chance to look him over. Short hair, fluffy on top, and curls noticeable throughout. A wide smile, broad shoulders, and green, crinkled eyes. Wait.

“Holy shit, wait, did I run into you last night?”

Harry abruptly stops laughing to listen to Louis, eyes going wide when he hears the question. “I thought I recognized you! You made me spill my tea!”

“To be fair, I think a majority of it got on my sweater.”

For the next few minutes, the two make jabs at each other, always ending up in the other laughing. To Harry, it feels more like he’s hanging out with an old friend rather than a new client. Speaking of.

“Oh,” Harry blurts. “I guess I should show you the folder of listings that I brought for you.”

He reaches down to the side of his chair, bringing his briefcase up to his lap. The tattered leather of it has seen better days, but Harry bought it when he first got the job and hasn’t been able to find anything that he would find suitable to replace it.

He pulls out the manila folder, careful not to let any papers fall out.

“And you think you’ve done a good job of finding me some acceptable places?” Louis inquires, eyeing the thick stack of papers in the folder.

“All the people that have previously worked with you gave me a list of things that you were most adamant about. Including a balcony, a glass door on the shower, and a kitchen sink with one of those ‘sprayer things,’” Harry quirks his fingers in the air. “I did my best to find places you might like.”

Harry slides the folder over to Louis, hoping that only a few are shot down instead of his usual many.

“Hmm,” Louis hums as he flicks through the first few listings. “This one is out, the tiling in the kitchen is horrendous.” He pulls a paper out of the pile and holds it out to Harry as he keeps looking. It’s roughly two minutes later when he finally looks up. “Well, I guess we better get started, huh?”

-

Louis heads back to Liam’s flat an hour and a half later when he realizes he left his hotel key on his nightstand. When he closes the door behind him, it takes everything in him not to slump to the ground immediately. But, with a look around the room, Louis can see that Liam is not in sight.

If he isn’t in sight, there’s no point in being dramatic.

He heads to the bedroom, and when he sees Liam laying on his stomach, scrolling through his phone, Louis slides down against the wall next to the door.

Liam raises an eyebrow, scrolling coming to a stop. “Y’alright, Tommo?”

“I think I just met the love of my life.”

“Your realtor?”

“I take that back, I ran into him last night when I was running home. But I just talked to him for an hour and a half and I think I’m in love.”

“Your realtor?”

Louis sighs, eyes opening to look up at the ceiling. “Yes, Liam. He’s my realtor. And his name is Harry Styles,” he says with wide eyes, looking at Liam now. “Harry fucking Styles, Liam, what the fuck kind of godly name is that. I’m in love with him.”

Liam turns onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. “I don’t remember you ever having personal conversations with your past realtors. How is this one any different?”

“He’s so pretty.” Louis’ pretty sure he sounds like a lovesick schoolgirl, but he really can’t stop himself. Everything about Harry was so charming and attractive and he can’t wait to see him again. “We get on so well, it’s never been like that with anyone. Not even you or Zayn, no offense.”

Liam’s offended face means that he does the exact opposite. “Yet you refuse to fall in love with me after all these years,” he scoffs. “After all I’ve done to take care of you.”

“When I look at Harry I can think of what it’d be like to have sex with him.” Louis closes his eyes. “When I look at you I want to throw up. There is a difference.”

“Hey,” Liam says abruptly.

“What?”

“Why were you running home last night?”

Louis’ eyes shoot open, staring at Liam as if he just caught him doing something horrible. 

“You little shit!” Liam shouts, throwing a pillow in the direction of Louis’ retreating figure. 

-

_**Tuesday, September 19** _

The weekend comes and goes fairly quickly and now Louis is sitting at his desk on Tuesday afternoon, typing an email to a client that had just sent in their third draft. There’s a certain scene that Louis’ sure can be better, but for some reason, Miss Lawrence is also sure that it is perfect the way it is.

It isn’t.

“Knock, knock.”

Louis barely glances up, knowing who it is from the sound of his voice. “What’s up?”

Zayn’s face is bright, as it always is when he comes to talk to Louis. It was a very fortunate day when the two childhood friends met again on their first days of work. After years of separate uni’s and different friend groups, the two drifted apart but never forgot each other. It was a very cheesy reunion but neither of them would change a thing.

“You know it’s past three, right? You’re off.” Zayn examines his nails, knowing how this conversation will go. 

“I only have-”

“-one more thing to do, I know. You say that every time, Lou. It’s different this time.”

Louis sighs in defeat, finishing his email and closing his laptop halfway. “How is it different this time, Zayn?” He speaks flatly, exhaustion clear on his face. He really should try to sleep more.

“You are aware that we have a shared calendar on our phones, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So, I know your schedule at all times.”

“Yes, Zayn, I know that. What is your point?”

“Meaning, Louis, I know that you have to meet your realtor in about,” he checks his watch as Louis’ face slowly slackens, “five minutes at that café.”

And then he’s rushing, just like last time. His laptop nearly goes flying off his desk as he grabs it, papers surrounding it most definitely getting mixed with others. _Goddammit._

“You’d think that you would’ve learned by now to set alarms on days like this.” Zayn’s usual brooding look is made brighter by the fact that Louis is, once again, late. “You’re going to be late.”

“Shut up, Zayn, I will not be late!”

And he’s racing out the door.

Four and half minutes later he’s collapsing into the seat across from Harry at the same table they were at last time.

Harry opens his mouth to speak but Louis holds up a finger, shaking his head. Considering how heavily he’s breathing at the moment, he’s sure that if he tried to speak, he would sound nothing short of a dog panting. Harry’s mouth closes but he doesn’t try to hide the smile spreading across his lips.

“I,” Louis finally speaks a minute later, “am not late.”

-

They end up sorting through the listings to see what order they should go see them in. The first one is about a mile away from his old flat in the middle of the city. Louis doesn’t think that this one should even be considered, but he’s willing to at least look at it.

Harry’s unlocking the door to the third-floor apartment as Louis thinks. The city noises are what made him sell his flat in the first place, among other things. It’s not as if he thinks he’ll be able to find a place near his job that will be silent, but he’s sure that he can find a quieter place than this.

As soon as the door swings open, Louis knows he won’t take it. If he decides to rent the place he chooses, then he won’t be allowed to paint the walls. Louis would like to at least look at a non-shitty color.

In the pictures, it seemed more of a coffee brown. Seeing it in person, he realizes it looks like shit. Like, actual shit. “No.”

Harry stops before he can even start, shocked by Louis’ quick decision. His hand comes up to pull on the hem of his yellow, white, and green striped sweater. Louis noticed Harry’s look almost immediately after they got into Harry’s car to come here. He has a brown jacket on over his shirt that’s tight on his shoulders and slim, tan pants covering his legs. It’s the most casual he’s ever seen on a realtor, but he really can’t say he’s complaining.

Louis’ never been one to deny his thoughts, and his thoughts are telling him that Harry is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen.

“Um, why, if I may ask?” Dressed so casual but so proper every time he opens those pink lips.

“The walls, Harry. Tell me they aren’t absolutely disgusting. I could never live here.”

Harry is, once again, stunned. “Walls are a deal-breaker?”

“If I rent the place, I won’t be able to change it. I am not looking at walls that look like my shit, Harry. Let’s go.” Louis turns and starts walking back to the car.

Well, Harry thinks. Maybe this will be harder than he thought.

-

**_Wednesday, September 20_ **

Harry’s cooking dinner by the time his roommate gets home. The asshole had left the night before to go clubbing and hadn’t been home all day.

It’s a day after his first showing with Louis and Harry is still reeling from how quickly he decided to say ‘no.’ Usually, if a client doesn’t like the walls, they still go through the whole tour just in case there’s something that would draw them in.

But Louis just- he said no. Without even thinking about it.

“Honey, I’m home!” Niall’s blonde head pops through the door of their flat first, followed by the rest of his body. “Is that lasagna I smell? Mate, I knew there was a reason I moved in with you.”

“Your roots are showing.” Harry doesn’t spare him a glance, already knowing that Niall would be staring at him in faux resentment.

“It’s just like you to point out my faults after I say something nice to you.” His Irish accent seems more prominent than usual, meaning Niall had a few drinks before coming home.

Harry tilts his head. “More of a backhanded compliment, I think. Insinuating that you don’t keep me around for anything other than my cooking skills.”

“I feel like I’ve told you many, many, many, _many_ times that your cooking skills are, in fact, the only reason I live with you.” Niall moves from the doorway, where he hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes, to the living room. A beer is sitting on the coffee table and the T.V. is playing a romantic movie that Harry found on Netflix. “Beer for me?”

“Yeah,” Harry shuts the timer off when it starts beeping, signaling that the lasagna is done. “This has to cool, which is perfect because now I’m going to put the garlic bread in.” He sounds so excited about garlic bread that Niall doesn’t have the heart to remind him that he’s probably making too much food for only two people. 

“How was work today? That tough client living up to the rumors?” Niall switches the movie, much to Harry’s annoyance.

Harry shrugs. “Everyone at work made him seem like he’d be a total dick the whole time when they described him. He’s actually a really pleasant lad, very funny. Good looking, too. Saw him yesterday, not today. He said no to the first flat because he didn’t like the color of the walls.”

“The-” Niall pauses, eyes darting to the walls of their own flat. “He didn’t like the wall color.”

“He said it reminded him of the shit that comes out of his arse.”

“He said that? In front of you?” Niall asks incredulously, kicking his feet up on the table. 

Harry leans down to get the garlic bread out of the oven. “It’s incredible that he’s so open. I would never talk about my shit to a client. I’m sure I’d be fired on the spot if that got back to my boss.”

“Jeff is a dick anyhow, he fires people just to see the look on their face and you know it.” Niall turns his head slightly in the direction of Harry but keeps his eyes on the intro to _Twister_ on the screen. “I know that you speak to clients over the phone sometimes, have you been doing that with Louis?”

The day before, a few moments before they parted ways, Louis demanded that he have Harry’s cell phone number so he could let him know which listings he vetoes throughout the week when they don’t see each other.

“Yeah,” Harry drops the pan of garlic bread abruptly. “Damn, I always forget to put an oven mitt on. It’s just when I’m taking garlic bread out, too. Never anything else. Just this.” 

Niall knows that fact very well, having lived with Harry for well over three years at this point. “Should I put a sticky note on the wall behind the oven?”

Harry looks at the said wall, viewing the many sticky notes that have been stuck to it over the years. Everything from _“Don’t forget to turn off the back burner!”_ to _“Cinnamon on the oatmeal, please, Haz!”_ Harry has always been an overly exceptional cook but he tends to forget the small things. 

“Maybe. I would probably not burn my hands every time I make this meal if you did.” 

A few minutes later, Harry’s bringing two plates of lasagna and garlic bread to the living room for him and Niall. “He’s probably texted me a few times already, actually. I should probably grab my phone.”

Niall raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “So, what’s this lad look like? Your usual type?” Okay, so maybe he insinuates something. 

“Huh?” Harry’s face scrunches in confusion as he leans towards the end table by the couch to reach his phone. “He’s got brown hair, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. A bit shorter than me. Nice ass, not that I would say that to anyone but you.”

If Niall says something after that, Harry doesn’t hear him. Whether he admits it aloud or not, Harry is completely infatuated with his new client. And he may or may not love every second of Louis texting him. Because he doesn’t just text Harry when he’s found another listing that he doesn’t like. 

It’s only been about twenty-six hours since Louis had gotten Harry’s number and he’s already slipping in what he’s doing at the time he’s texting. Or mentioning how annoying his two best friends are. 

_Louis Tomlinson:_ _  
__I can’t believe you thought this was a good option._

Attached is a picture of one of the listings that Harry gave him. He had made two copies of each listing, one for him and one for Louis. Clearly, Louis didn’t appreciate the fact that Harry was killing trees, considering the next video that he sends is of himself putting it through a paper shredder.

Harry can’t help but look at the background to see what Louis’ current home looks like. But it turns out that there’s a desk next to the paper shredder. 

_Harry Styles:_ _  
__You’re still at work?_

_Louis Tomlinson:_ _  
__The day never ends, Styles._

Harry checks the time. Eight forty-five. 

_Harry Styles:_ _  
__It’s almost nine. Go home. We have five places to look at tomorrow._

_Louis Tomlinson:_ _  
__Christ, I forgot. Can we skip like…_ _  
__all of them?_

Harry scoffs out loud, a smile blooming on his face without him realizing it. 

_Harry Styles:_ _  
__No, we have to go to all of them._

He can practically feel Louis’ pout in the next message that comes through.

_Louis Tomlinson:_ _  
__Funsucker. Your contact name is officially changed to Harold._ _  
__Harry seems too laid back for such an uptight lad like you._

_Harold Styles:_ _  
__Whatever, Lewis._

Harry had called Louis that the day before when Louis first started texting him. After a short lecture about how his name is _not_ Lewis, Harry decided that he would call him that as often as possible. 

“Harry? Did you hear me?” Niall’s voice slices through his peaceful state, causing him to drop his phone in his lap with a jump. 

“What?” He looks to Niall, hands clutching his phone as he waits to see if Louis will reply or not. Maybe he should be concerned with the way he’s acting with his client, but he doesn’t doubt that he’ll figure it out soon. And by that, he means he’s already figured it out and that he will never be informing Louis of those particular thoughts. 

He snaps back into reality and looks over to Niall. 

“I asked if you’d be able to go out with me on Friday night?”

“Oh, uh,” he pauses to think about it, “yeah, I think I should be able to. I see Louis that day for a showing, but that shouldn’t take too long. Plenty of time for me to get ready before we go out.”

“Sweet, sounds good, mate. ‘M gonna go to my room, thanks for dinner, as always. Love you.” The words come out quickly, as they usually do with Niall, and then he’s bounding down the hall after putting his plate in the dishwasher.

Harry stays seated on the couch, the remnants of his crust from his garlic bread getting colder and colder. He huffs when he has to reach forward for the remote, sticking one of his feet in the crack between the cushions. 

He runs a hand through his hair and flicks through Netflix until he gets back to the movie he had on before. A phone starts ringing just as he’s about to press play. Sliding a thumb across the screen, Harry leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Hullo?”

“Sorry if it’s weird to call you, but what the fuck were you thinking when you chose a place that had _carpet?_ ”

Harry startles at the sharp voice on the other end of the line, straightening up immediately. Louis. Louis called. Louis is on the phone. Right now. With him. What is that in Harry’s stomach? Feels like something is flying around in there. Fuck. Louis. 

“You don’t like carpet now?” He tries to play it off, to pretend like he’s not close to melting to the floor. 

“Not in my living room!” He shouts, a chorus of honking following his words. “Damn city drivers. Always in my lane. Anyway, no. I eat in my living room. How am I supposed to clean up a mess if it’s on a carpet? Much harder, Harold, I’m telling you. That one’s out.”

Harry sighs as if he’s being inconvenienced. “Which day were we supposed to go see that one?”

“I don’t know, like two weeks from now on Thursday?” There’s ruffling of papers in the background. 

“Louis, are you driving?” Harry can admit that this is a dumb question. Louis had complained about other drivers just moments ago, obviously, he’s driving. 

“Obviously.”

“Quit looking through papers while you’re driving, dumbass.” Harry freezes. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a name, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t talk to you like-”

“Mate, Harold, calm down. I don’t care how you talk to me. This is much better than your ‘proper speak’ when we’re going to showings. I hate it.”

“You hate when I’m polite?”

“I hate when you’re stiff. The politeness is very exceptional, but when you’re stiff, it makes me feel like I have to be stiff, too.”

“Huh,” Harry ponders. “Never thought of it like that.”

“Ah, but you do dress very, very nice. Very casual.” Louis says the next part as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “It’s a good look on you. Wonder what you’d look like dressed up for a night out. Dashing, I assume.”

Harry can’t breathe. He thinks he’s choking on something. Did Louis just flirt with him? Or is he just being nice? Either way, Harry can’t help himself. 

“And what would you look like on a night out? Dressed to the nines?”

“Harold, men can’t keep themselves from dreaming of me after a night out.”

_Men._ Harry doesn’t like to make assumptions but if he was hoping for Louis to be gay, or bisexual, or pansexual, or unlabelled, or whatever, no one needs to know except for him. 

“I don’t doubt that at all, Lewis.”

-

_**Thursday, September 21** _

After flirting with Harry for much longer than he intended, Louis had finally gone to sleep around one in the morning last night. It may have been a mistake but Louis refuses to admit it. Flirting with Harry, whether the man realized it or not, was much more exhilarating than he had anticipated. 

And he tried to stop himself, he really did. He knows he shouldn’t flirt with his realtor, no matter how cute he is. The words had come spilling out before he could stop them and at that point, Harry was already flirting back. At least, that’s what Louis thinks is what happened. 

Maybe Harry is just overly friendly with all of his friends and clients. While that was very unlikely, Louis won’t allow himself to think that Harry is attracted to him. 

How could a man that looks like him _be_ attracted to Louis? It isn’t as if Louis has self-esteem issues; he most definitely does not. He knows what his body does for a man and he knows he’s just sassy enough to draw people in. 

But Harry is so totally out of his league. The small curls in his hair were to die for, eyes so green that Louis could write sonnets about them (and Louis _hates_ sonnets). And his mouth, _god,_ his mouth. How is someone born with such perfect lips? 

The things that have gone through Louis’ mind when watching Harry speak would make anyone blush. 

Zoning back into work, Louis clicks on his email. No new notifications. 

Three nights ago, Louis had applied to multiple jobs that he was interested in, but so far, none have emailed him or called him about it. 

Louis loves his job, he does. And he’s one of the best at it. But it was never what he wanted to do with his life. He’d gone to school for journalism and minored in creative writing. When he applied for a job at _Cowell Reads_ over two years ago it was simply because he had been having trouble finding a job during the first month of being out of uni. 

And then, when visiting his favorite magazine’s website four nights ago, Louis saw that they were hiring and got an idea. Of course, he took a whole twenty-four hours to think about if he wanted to do it. 

In the end, the answer was a resounding ‘yes!’ 

It was his dream job. Working for _Private Eye_ would be both insightful and educational. A job there means he’ll be writing about public figures, and instead of painting them as bad people like the previous writer did, Louis just wants to write the facts, maybe inquire a few questions to keep people on their toes.

Of course, if that doesn’t happen, Louis will continue his job at _Cowell Reads_ and force himself to be happy about it because when he thinks too much about it he realizes how unhappy he is. 

_Stop._ Louis physically snaps his fingers in front of his face twice, attempting to bring himself out of his thoughts. When it works, he sits up straight in his chair and is about to start reading another one of Miss Lawrence’s drafts. 

It’s always brutal when he gets a young writer. They have all the inexperience in the world but refuse to admit that what they write can be better. An alarm goes off before Louis can even start to get irritated at Miss Lawrence. 

“You’re welcome!” Zayn’s voice calls out as he walks by Louis’ office door. 

Louis looks at his phone to see an alarm blaring with the note ‘Harry in 15!’ Oh. Right. Funny how, besides work, Harry is all he can think about ever since he met him and somehow he still forgets when they’re supposed to meet for showings. 

Sighing, Louis gets up from his desk after packing away the manuscript he was about to read and shoving his laptop alongside it in his bag. This will be the first time that he isn’t late for a meeting with Harry. Though, he much prefers to call them ‘dates’ because he’s completely hopeless when it comes to that man. 

The café is only five or so minutes from Louis’ work, but if he has extra time then he doesn’t have to run all the way there like he’s had to do every time so far. 

He stops just outside of his office building, glancing down at himself. Mr. Cowell has never been strict about what his employees wear. That’s about the only good thing Louis has to say about the older gentleman. Because of the aforementioned laidback dress code, Louis is dressed in his Toms, a black pair of skinny jeans that hug him so tightly that it might be considered a health concern, and a loose red shirt that swoops low on his neck. 

Louis thinks he looks pretty hot. He hopes Harry does too. 

He shakes his head, attempting to chase that thought away as he begins to walk, but ends up failing miserably.

By the time Louis arrives at the café, Harry’s already there. He sees him through one of the windows, sitting at their usual table. And he looks absolutely incredible today. 

His hair is just as fluffy as usual, getting longer by the day it seems, and he has a bit of scruff on his face. Sunglasses are pushed back into his hair since it’s a rare sunny day in London, and-

Oh. He’s wearing a loose, black button-down with black skinny jeans. A dark look for such a bright day. But that’s not what Louis’ focused on. No. He’s focused on the butterfly tattoo on his upper stomach that he can see due to the shirt being almost completely undone. 

He seems to be looking through some papers, so he doesn’t see that Louis has completely stopped in his tracks outside of the café. 

When Harry’s hand moves to his hair, Louis jumps into motion out of fear of him looking up. 

Louis walks inside - three twenty-five - and sits down in his seat, setting his bag down next to his feet. If it took him five minutes to walk here, did he really spend another five staring at Harry? However likely that is, it’s even more embarrassing. 

He can’t _like_ his realtor. Once he finds a place to live, they’ll probably never see each other again. The thought shouldn’t make Louis’ stomach tighten after only being around Harry two other times. How does it feel like he’s always known him?

“Lou? You okay?”

“Huh?” Louis’ eyes dart upwards and find that Harry’s staring at him in concern. “What, yeah, ‘m fine. Why do you ask?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Um, because you sat down and didn’t say a word? That’s not like you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Louis waves him off, shifting in his seat to be able to cross his ankles. “What’s on the agenda today, Harold?”

“What were you thinking about?” Harry presses on. 

Louis huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “Was thinking about work, ‘s all.” It may not be the truth, but if he had asked fifteen minutes earlier it would’ve been. 

“What about work?”

“I applied for a new job.”

“You what?” Harry blurts before he can think about it.

Louis looks down, rubbing his arm self-consciously. “It was a stupid thing to do, I know, forget I said anything. Where are we going first?”

“What, no, I didn’t mean to- it wasn’t-” Harry takes a deep breath. “I was just shocked when you said that. I didn’t mean to insinuate that it was a stupid idea. I’m just surprised.”

“Why? People apply for new jobs all the time.”

“Well, yeah, but considering the flats we’ve been looking at, I can assume that you make pretty good money.” Harry pauses and stills completely. “Goddamn, I’m sorry, I’m always getting too personal. I’m your realtor, I should just-”

Louis cuts him off. “Shut the fuck up, Harry.”

And Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that. He knows he shouldn’t have asked about Louis’ salary, but he apologi-

“I don’t care if you ask me something personal or whatever, Harold. It’s not like I think you’re gonna ruin me with whatever information I give you.”

“Oh,” he says softly. “I just thought, since I technically work for you, you wouldn’t want me to act so comfortably.”

Louis stares at him. “Did you hear yourself just now? I’ve been way more comfortable than you this whole time,” he laughs incredulously, “I literally fucking called you last night, which I’m very sorry for, by the way. I’m sure you were tired, I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“No!” Harry nearly shouts, blushing at his own abruptness. “I mean, no, you didn’t keep me up. I didn’t mind that you called.”

A chuckle slips through Louis’ lips. “That’s good, that’s good. Might have to call you every night, mate, I haven’t fallen asleep that easily in months.”

Louis can’t stop staring, he knows. Harry’s cheeks are painted pink from his flush, and Louis can’t help but wonder what else he could say to cause that. 

It’s just that Harry looks unnaturally good today. Apart from showing off so much skin, he also looks just- Louis doesn’t know how to describe it. He’s sitting up taller than usual and his lips look glossy. Louis’ eyes drift down his arms, noticing not for the first time how strong he looks. 

His eyes freeze on Harry’s hands. He’s seen the rings before, of course, he has. Harry’s hands are hard not to notice even without the rings. Louis’ pretty sure that Harry could pick him up with one finger. 

But that’s not what Louis’ looking at. No, he’s looking at Harry’s nails that are painted a bright red. As if he doesn’t care what other people will think of him. And Louis can’t help but adore him for that.

“I like your nails,” Louis says. 

Which, apparently Harry had been talking, so he cut him off. “What?” Harry asks in confusion, looking down at his nails. “Oh!” He exclaims, face brightening so quickly that Louis thinks he may be looking at the sun. “Thank you, I painted them last night.”

The smile that spreads across Harry’s face at the compliment is- it’s fucking blinding. And Louis wants nothing more than to keep causing it. 

-

“How did you say no to every single place we went to? You didn’t even say maybe to any of them, you just said _no_.” The incredulous tone in Harry’s voice makes Louis giggle. 

Harry was honestly baffled by the time they were done driving around the city, right back where they started. 

“None of them satisfied me, Harold.” Louis flicks his hair out of his eyes, Harry’s eyes following the movement absentmindedly. 

“How? I thought you would’ve at least liked the second one!” He thought back to that moment, trying to understand how ‘my couch wouldn’t look good in here’ was an appropriate response when looking at a flat. 

“I already told you why I said no.”

Harry furrows his brows and pouts. “It was a dumb reason,” he mumbles. It really was, Harry thinks. Who says no to a flat because their couch won’t look good in the living room? He’s never heard of that before. 

“I think it was practical.” Louis leans back in the passenger seat of Harry’s car and looks over at him. “Quit making that face, you’ll get lines on your forehead, Mr. Pouty.”

“Whatever,” Harry huffs. 

He begins driving back to the café, one hand resting on the gear shift. 

Harry hates driving for many reasons. He doesn’t trust other drivers, the winter is brutal, the car is hot in the summer. But at the moment, he hates it because he’d rather be observing Louis. 

The second the other man sat down in the café earlier that day, Harry has had trouble keeping his eyes off of him. 

He’s never seen a man look so strong yet so delicate at the same time. The way Louis’ sleeves hug his biceps is mouthwatering, his lips look more pink than usual, and his fucking collarbones. When Harry saw the shirt Louis was wearing, his mouth nearly dropped to the floor. 

It’s not like he had never noticed how disgustingly attractive the other man is. In fact, it was the first thing to ever cross his mind. And once those blue eyes met his, Harry was absolutely, completely, totally gone for - whether he would admit it or not. 

And he should probably be scared, considering Louis will most likely cease speaking to him once he’s found a home that’s suitable for him. 

“H, the light is green. Let’s get a move on.”

Louis’ voice startles him out of his thoughts, his foot stepping down on the gas reflexively. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to do that.”

“Hm,” Louis hums, rolling his head to the side to look at Harry, repeating the man’s question from before. “What were you thinking about?”

_Just about how much I’m gonna miss you._

“Nothing, just wondering what I’m gonna make for dinner.”

If Louis notices that Harry’s lying or not, he doesn’t say. Instead, he says, “Ooh, now I can get with that. I’m in the mood for chicken parmesan, what do we think?”

“I’ve only made it a couple of times, but it _is_ one of Niall’s favorite meals. So,” Harry glances at Louis, taking in as much as possible before he has to look back at the road, “I guess that will do.”

“Can’t wait,” Louis smiles and closes his eyes, leaning back in his set even further. 

_Hold on. Can’t wait? Does that mean…_

“You plan on comin’ over or somethin’?” He asks nonchalantly, looking at Louis through the corner of his eye. 

“Obviously,” Louis snorts, “otherwise I would’ve told you to make something that’s shit.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot of the café, parking near the back of it before stopping the car. “Are we at that level of friendship so soon, Lewis?”

Through his crinkled eyes, Harry watches as Louis lets out a strained laugh, his hands wringing together. “I’m just kidding, Harold, don’t worry,” he gives him a small smile, hands reaching to unbuckle his seat belt. 

“Hey,” Harry reaches out, hand resting over Louis’. And he doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but he may be on fire. He’s never felt like this before and he’s having trouble deciding whether or not that’s a good thing. “I make a mean chicken parm, and I’m not about to pass up an opportunity to brag.”

All at once, Louis’ body seems to completely relax. He lets out a big breath, giving Harry such a wide smile that Harry thinks he might pass out. “It’s a date.”

-

What the fuck is Louis doing here? How did he get himself into this?

Sure, he’s practically been in love with Harry since the day the two met, but how in the hell did he land himself here? How is Harry even okay with bringing a client into his home to make them dinner?

“Niall, my roommate, should be home sometime soon as long as he doesn’t plan on going out again,” Harry’s voice interrupts his panic. “I’ll make enough for all three of us just in case, though.” 

He slips his shoes off by the door, prompting Louis to do the same. 

“You can make yourself at home, I’m gonna go change before I start cooking,” and he’s unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way right in front of Louis. 

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles, “Yeah, alright.”

Harry’s walking down the hall by the time he slips his shirt off and all Louis can see is a flash of wide shoulders, pale skin, and love handles. 

Which is going to be absolutely detrimental to Louis’ health because he will not be able to think of anything else for at _least_ the next week. And that’s not good for multiple reasons. 

One, he’s supposed to get Miss Lawrence to a final draft by the end of next week. Two, Liam is supposed to help him pull at the club on Friday (which he had reluctantly agreed to), and three, he’ll be with Harry three times next week, at least two hours each time.

How is he supposed to do all of these things when Harry’s warm skin and strong back and soft hips are the only things on his mind? When all he wants to do is cuddle with Harry on the couch and maybe snog for a few hours? 

Because that’s another thing he hasn’t been able to get off his mind. Harry’s mouth. 

Louis’ never met such a pretty person and then realized how absolutely sinful every part of their body looks when isolated. Harry’s mouth is no exception because the things that Louis can imagine that mouth doing is downright _dirty._ And he definitely shouldn’t be having such thoughts about his realtor.

But it’s hard not to when they fell into such a comfortable relationship so quickly, one that seems like it’s been around for ages. 

“Lou, what are you doing?” 

Louis jumps, startling from the break-in silence. “Huh? Oh, nothing, I was just…” He trails off, thinking of what he should say. “Observing your flat,” he spits out as soon as he thinks of it. 

“Yeah?” Harry smirks, looking at the living room. “Would your couch look good in a flat like this?”

The eye roll that Louis responds with is definitely overdramatic. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Better than a dumbass.”

A bright laugh escapes Louis’ lips, finally slipping his shoes off and kicking them over to Harry’s much larger suede boots that he seems so attached to. 

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” Louis murmurs, sliding his feet across the hardwood of the living room and making his way to the tiled kitchen. 

“And if I wasn’t funny?”

“I’d have to burgle you.”

“Burgle?” Harry asks in astonishment, eyes wide with a smile forming. “Tell me you didn’t just use the word burgle,” he laughs, clutching his stomach, “holy shit, Louis, shut the fuck up.”

Louis opens the fridge. “I’m going to assume you meant that in a good way and will continue to talk.”

“Just grab a drink or something and go, I have a meal to start.” Harry gives Louis a nudge on his way to the cabinets. 

Louis grabs a pop out of the fridge, hopping onto the island counter after. “Who said I wasn’t gonna watch you cook, Mister Styles?”

“I didn’t realize we were using formalities,” Harry’s moving quickly through the kitchen, ingredients slowly piling up on the counter next to Louis’ leg. “I’ll let you watch, even though you’re sitting in the spot I usually prep. I hope you feel special.”

Oh, he feels special. It’s hard not to when Harry’s looking at him with such a fond look. He’s also vaguely aroused at the word “prep” coming from those pink lips. No matter who the one doing the prepping is, Louis can’t help but let himself think of it. 

And he can’t deny that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of what it’d be like to let Harry take control of things. It’s hard to pull himself from those thoughts when Harry’s right in front of him, _cooking for him,_ with his large hands. 

“I’m quite polite, Mister Styles, I should’ve been referring to you like this the whole time,” Louis straightens his spine and crosses one leg over the other, hands folding in his lap. 

He’s able to keep a straight face for a few seconds, but then he looks at Harry’s ridiculously pleased face, smile so wide it may split his face in half, and Louis breaks, rolling into a fit of giggles. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Mister Tomlinson.” 

Louis relaxes his body, a pleased smile lifting the corners of his lips. “So,” he begins, leaning back on his hands. “Do you usually bring home your clients and cook them dinner, or am I just an exception?”

“No,” Harry laughs, “I don’t think I’ve ever-”

“Oh, my god! Harry! You’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?” Louis throws an affronted hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you,” he hops off the counter for dramatics. “I need to leave, I can’t stand you.”

He’s just started sauntering away when he’s abruptly stopped. And then he’s being dragged back to the counter. “Sit back down, we don’t have time for your games if you want dinner anytime soon.”

Harry’s exasperated statement would’ve caused Louis to continue doing exactly what he was told not to do in any other situation. But currently, Harry has two fingers looped through the belt loop in the center of Louis' back and he’s pretty sure he’s started sweating. 

Taking a deep breath as inconspicuous as possible, Louis starts moving with the light tug of Harry’s arm. “Fine,” he sighs, fighting the blush that wants to rise to his cheeks. “Only because you’re begging.”

“This is begging to you? How sad,” Harry shakes his head. Just as he opens his mouth to speak again, the door to the flat is thrown open. 

“Harry! Harold!” There’s pained yelling coming from just outside the door. “Help! I think I’ve broken something!”

Louis sits up straight on the counter, fingers laced together tightly as he waits for Harry’s reaction. All he does is continue to prep the chicken. Louis’ brows furrow, “Aren’t you going to help him?”

“Shhh,” Harry quickly hushes him, sending a quick glare in Louis’ direction. 

Now Louis’ even more confused. 

But only for a few more seconds. Because then a loud, blond, Irishman is stomping through the door. 

“What if I was actually injured, Harry? Would you just leave me there to-” Niall cuts himself off, stopping in the middle of slipping his shoes off. “Who’s this?”

Louis looks to Harry, not sure how to react to the situation. He had never gone over to his realtor’s home before, and while he was currently not at all uncomfortable, he’s beginning to think that maybe he should be. Maybe it’s not normal to have dinner with Harry at his house. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe Harry didn’t want to make Louis feel weird and tell him not to come over. 

“This is Louis,” Harry’s voice interrupts his panic. “Louis, as you can probably assume, that’s Niall.”

-

The evening goes like this:

After Louis and Niall are introduced, they click almost immediately and migrate to the couch while Harry continues making dinner. The two of them sit together, sipping on soda and yelling at the footie game playing on the tv. 

Once dinner is ready, they all sit on the couch together and watch a horror movie. Throughout it, Louis makes sly comments about how “that kitchen island is the kind that I want” and “see, that’s why we don’t have carpet in the living room.”

Harry only flicks Louis’ head from where his arm is resting on the back of the couch since Niall is sitting in between them. 

And then, after the movie ended and all three were satisfied with how much they ate, Harry’s driving Louis to the hotel he’s staying at. 

“You know, you probably should’ve just kept your old flat until you had a new one.”

Louis groans. “Trust me, Liam’s said that to me every day for the past two months.”

“Two months?!” Harry’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “You’ve been _living_ in a _hotel_ for two _months_?!”

“It’s not a big deal, you drama queen, it’s a decent hotel. And I’d much rather be staying there instead of my old place.”

“What was so wrong with your old place? How’s it worse than a _hotel_?”

Harry never thought a hotel room would be considered nicer than an actual flat, but what’s he know? He’s only a realtor. 

Louis, who is currently slumped in the passenger seat, slips his shoes off and props them up on the dash. _No socks._ Huh. “The area just sucked, and I was a little further away from work and my friends than I’d like to be. And the place had been falling apart since the day I moved there.”

“Is that all?”

“Liam likes to call it my ‘impulsive decision of the year’,” Louis quotes with his fingers, rolling his eyes. 

“You have those often?”

“Well, if you’d listened to what I just said, Harold, I tend to have them yearly.”

Harry takes a right and pulls into the parking lot of the hotel Louis’ staying at. “What was it last year?” He asks as he shifts his car into park. 

“Buying 90,000 pounds worth of a car that I only drive once a year.”

“Shit,” Harry’s eyes bulge. “You’re richer than I thought.”

Louis shrugs, shrinking on himself once he realizes what he said. “Not really, I just spend more than I should,” he mumbles, arms crossed over his chest. 

Harry notices his closed-off stature when talking about money and immediately changes the topic. “So, instead of staying at some dingy hotel, why wouldn’t you stay with one of your mates?”

And, just like every other time he asks something relatively personal, Harry holds his breath. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he breathed during this conversation. He’s too tense, always waiting for Louis to snap at him, tell him off for being too nosy, _something._ He’s never been so close with a client before, and while it feels incredibly natural to be like this with Louis, he can’t help but remember his place. 

His boss would absolutely kill him if he knew he took Louis home for dinner. 

“Ah, me mate Liam offered, but he’s so anal about the way things are left in there. I can’t relax when I stay with him for more than two nights,” Louis answers with an eye roll. “I love him, but I can’t stand him.”

“And,” Harry’s brows scrunch together, “you don’t have anyone else you could’ve stayed with?”

A smile slips onto Louis’ lips. “Zayn offered, and I really would’ve, but we work together, so if we did that and I also lived with him, we’d drive each other crazy. Or, _I_ would drive _him_ crazy.”

“I bet you’re a delight to live with, Lou.”

Louis raises a brow. “You sure about that, Harold?”

Harry shifts in his seat, bringing one leg up to cross under his other, and faces Louis. “Well, you’ve been pleasant so far, so I can’t imagine I would hate being around you.”

“I’m proper messy, mate, you wouldn’t be able to stand it if your flat is anything to go by.”

“Niall is the messiest person I’ve ever met and I’ve lived with him for three years,” Harry says.

He watches as Louis shifts to face him as well, slipping his leg on top of the center console. His knee bumps into Harry’s and stays there once he’s settled. Harry tries not to think about it too much but honestly, what does he expect from himself? He’s been thinking about touching Louis since the moment they met at the café this morning. 

Just this small touch is sending him into overdrive.

“Maybe so,” Louis hums. “Bummer we won’t ever find out.”

And if Harry’s chest hurts a little when he hears that comment, then that’s no one’s business but his own. 

-

_**Friday, September 22** _

Louis never feels more alive than he does when he’s dancing. No matter who is grinding up against him or what hands are roaming over his body, he feels completely in control. Even though he hasn’t gone clubbing in years and hasn’t been dancing for even longer, he feels just as light on his feet as he has in the past. 

And even as a pair of possessive hands attach themselves to his waist, Louis still doesn’t worry. Because it’s easy to slip out and twirl his way to Liam, who was previously dancing with a very fit lass until Louis took her place. 

“Doing okay, Lou?” Liam shouts over the pounding music, hands resting comfortably on Louis’ waist. Liam may be the farthest thing from gay, but he’s never had a problem being close to Louis when they’re out or even when they’re at home. 

Louis nods. “‘M thinking we should take a break! Maybe go sit down for a bit or something.”

It doesn’t take long for the two to be comfortably sat at a booth, making small talk as they sip on their drinks. 

“Is Zayn still coming out? Or did he cancel?”

“No, he’s still coming,” Louis shakes his head, sucking on the straw in his drink for a moment. “He should be here right about- ZAYN! There you are!” He cuts himself off quickly when he sees his friend making his way towards them.

Damn. Even in the darkened club he still manages to be beautiful. 

As Louis hugs Zayn tightly, even though the two had seen each other just that afternoon, he spots someone even more beautiful at the bar.

“Fuck, oh my, god, sit the fuck down.” 

Louis pulls Zayn and himself into his side of the booth, causing the younger man to fall half on top of him. “What the hell, Lou?” Zayn nearly shouts, knee aching from the way it slammed against the table. “What was that?”

“Harry’s over there,” Louis whispers, eyes wide as he slides down in the booth. “Holy shit, he looks amazing. Even better than he did earlier today. This is so unfair.”

Liam and Zayn look at each other, rolling their eyes at their friend. “So, Zayn, how’s everything been?” Liam leans onto the table to be closer. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

The two continue boring conversation for a few minutes, mainly trying not to give Louis, who hasn’t stopped staring at the bar, any attention. 

“Do you guys need another drink?” Louis interrupts, sitting up straight from where he’s been slumping. “Great, I’ll go get them.”

He stands up before either of his friends could even try to answer. It’s not like he’s going to walk up to Harry. That’d be weird. Especially considering he’s pretty sure he’s broken every realtor-client relationship rule in the past week. 

_A week._ Louis can’t believe it’s only been one week. He feels like he’s known Harry for years. 

But, anyway, the point is that Louis will most definitely not be walking up to Harry like a total stalker. No, he’s going to attempt to lure him in. Much like seducing but in a friendly way. 

“Hey, Miles!” Louis shouts once he gets to the bar, which isn’t necessary but it’s part of the plan. “Me next, pal!”

Louis settles onto a stool as subtly as possible, trying to make it seem like he has no clue who’s surrounding him. He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job if he says so himself. He drums his fingers on the counter, getting impatient even after a few seconds of sitting there. 

Surely, Harry heard him when he shouted. Which means he should be speaking to Louis either right now or very soon. Unless he doesn’t want to speak to Louis? Oh, god, has he misread their entire relationship? What if Harry truly did act the same way with all his past clients? Had he lied about Louis being the only client he’s brought home for dinner?

Fuck, this was such a mistake. What is he even doing? 

“So, I see you always have a loudmouth. Not just with me.” Every single muscle in his body relaxes instantly when he hears the low timbre of Harry’s voice. _Thank god._ “And here I thought we had something special going on.” 

Harry sees a smile spread across Louis’ face. “Don’t worry, babe, I save my loudest moments for you,” Louis winks when he turns to him, finding that Harry is already sitting on the stool next to him. 

Harry flushes at the innuendo. He’s not sure how many of those he’ll be able to handle tonight without exploding. “So,” Harry starts, stretching one leg to rest on the bottom of Louis’ stool. “What are you doing out? You all alone?” He glances around for extra measure.

A small smirk settles on his lips when he sees two men staring at him and Louis from a booth a little further away. Harry looks back to Louis, who’s sitting with a bored look on his face as he watches Harry. He puts his hand up in the air and flips off the men that must be his friends without even looking. 

“I’m sure you can assume that the two staring at us are the ones I’m out with. Or is your head only useful when it comes to looking pretty?” Louis spins his seat so that he’s fully facing Harry. Harry’s eyes quickly flit up and down Louis’ body, barely containing himself when he sees what he’s wearing. “Knew you’d look good when you’re dressed up.”

Harry knows he looks good. He’s dressed in a tight pair of jeans and a nearly see-through button-down shirt, buttons (as usual) unbuttoned to just above his butterfly tattoo.

“As if I look any better than you. I’m pretty sure half the club is staring at you right now.”

And he’s serious. Harry knows what he looks like right now, but he also knows what _Louis_ looks like right now. His breath catches in his throat when he lets himself properly observe the smaller man in front of him. Louis’ wearing a crop top that shows off his tummy and he wears it so confidently that it nearly makes Harry hard.

Further down, Harry sees a _very_ tight pair of jeans stretch across Louis’ bum, and his eyes lock onto the rips that are scattered down his legs. Because Harry sees something that he absolutely did not expect and now all he can think is _louislouislouis._

He’s wearing fucking _fishnets_ under his jeans. Harry always knew he had a thing for his partners dressing up, but he never realized how much until now. His thoughts are spiraling and he can’t latch onto any singular thought. If Louis’ wearing fishnets, he’s probably not wearing boxers, which means he’s either going commando or he’s wearing _panties_ and now Harry can’t stop thinking about getting Louis _out of his clothes._

“You sure they aren’t looking at you?” Louis raises an eyebrow, but before Harry can answer, Miles is walking up to them on the other side of the bar. _No,_ Harry thinks, _they are most definitely looking at you._

Harry watches as Louis makes an order, letting Harry get a drink on his tab as well.

“So, who are your friends over there?” Harry asks once the drinks are set in front of them. 

“Liam is the bigger one,” Louis looks at Harry and sucks on his straw, “and the other prettier one is Zayn. Don’t know how they convinced me to go out tonight.”

Harry leans closer, elbow sliding across the countertop. “Do you not usually go out that much? Seems like you’d need some relaxation considering how much you seem to work.”

“Nah, I actually just started going out again the night before our first meeting. That’s why I was late,” Louis says quietly, seemingly embarrassed about something he’s just said, “but before then I hadn’t gone out in, like, two years. Since I first started at my current job.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“To be fair, when I first moved here, I had almost no money. So I worked a lot of overtime whenever it was available, took on a lot of extra work,” he takes another sip of his drink, giving Harry an exaggerated smile after. “And so here I am today, not knowing how to flirt with anyone but my realtor.”

Fuck. _Fuck._ Did he really just say that? Or is Harry imagining things?

He decides that he’s not when he sees the shy smile on Louis’ lips.

“Well, at least you know you’ve still got it,” Harry smirks, trying to come across as confident even though he’s feeling the opposite.

“And how do I know that?” Louis chuckles. “Haven’t gotten very far with you.”

Maybe Harry woke up in an alternate universe. That has to be it. There’s no way Louis would say these things to him and mean it.

He watches a flush quickly rise to Louis’ cheeks, but before Harry can answer or reassure him in any way, Niall is bounding towards them.

“Harry, lad! What’s been taking you so long!” Niall shouts to him, sidling up next to him with no problem. 

Harry stares flatly at him and gestures to Louis. 

“Lou!” Niall exclaims, launching himself at the smaller man. “Good to see you again, man, what are you doing out all by yourself?”

Louis hugs back hesitantly and Harry tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring at him.“No, ‘m over there,” he gestures in the direction of his two friends, “with me mates. Was just coming to get a drink.”

A disappointed frown makes its way onto Harry’s lips without his permission, but he does nothing to stop it. The thought of Louis leaving so soon makes his stomach feel weird.

“Harry and I are here, just us two, d’ya have room at your table for two more?” Niall pulls back from the drawn-out hug, nearly bouncing on his feet with excitement. “‘M always up for new friends.”

_Thank god for Niall._ That’s the only thought running through Harry’s mind while he waits - somewhat impatiently - for Louis’ response.

“Yeah, sure!” A smile stretches across Louis’ lips and Harry can barely contain the butterflies in his tummy.

Before either of the other two can say anything else, Louis’ gripping Niall’s elbow and dragging him towards the booth his friends are still in. 

“Hey, boys,” Louis shoves Niall next to Liam and plops himself next to Zayn. “This is Niall and this is- oh, hi- this is Harry.” 

Harry sits down next to Louis, the option between him and his best friend being one of the easiest decisions he’s ever made. Although, maybe he sat too close on accident because his thigh is pressed against Louis’ and now that’s all he’ll be able to think about for the rest of the night. 

Harry can practically feel the fishnets through Louis’ jeans and _wow,_ is it hot in here? Because Harry’spretty sure he’s sweating now and he’d much rather that be because it’s hot and not because of all the thoughts running through his head.

The boys all begin to make conversation with each other, but Harry can only focus on how much Louis is shifting next to him. It’s like he couldn’t stop moving even if he tried, and Harry barely thinks about it before he impulsively grips Louis’ thigh.

Harry watches as Louis’ eyes snap up to him and he leans in a little closer to say, “I didn’t realize you move so much.”

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles with wide eyes.

“Lou!” 

Louis startles out of Harry’s gaze when Liam calls his name. 

“What?”

Liam narrows his eyes. “How have you spent more than two hours with both Niall and Harry, and you haven’t told them about your family? How are we supposed to be best mates if you withhold information?”

Harry focuses on the conversation again, not even caring that the only reason he wants to listen is Louis' speaking now. He stretches his fingers a bit before he settles his hand more comfortably on Louis’ thigh, trying to ignore the hitch in the other man’s breath.

“I didn’t realize we were on our way to becoming best mates with these two knockers so quickly. And besides, Harry and I speak of houses and nothing else.” Louis sips at his drink haughtily, and everyone knows that he’s lying if the smirks on everyone’s faces are anything to go by. They all stare at him for a few seconds. “Okay, fine,” he slumps back. “I’ve got six siblings.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up and he leans onto the table so much that it’s nearly about to tip over. _“Six_ siblings? How the hell are you alive?”

“Oh, they weren’t bad. I love all of them, they’re my world.” 

Liam rolls his eyes and dives into a deeper explanation.“They’re the reason he’s even stayed at his current job for so long. He makes so much there that he’s able to send money home to his mom and all them.” Liam leans conspiratorially, causing Harry and Niall to lean in as well. Harry’s hand moves closer to Louis’ knee. “He likes to act all tough, but he’s a giant sweetheart when you get to know him.”

“Whatever.” Louis crosses his arms grumpily.

Louis leans forward a little, his leg pressing closer to Harry’s. Harry thinks he can feel his heart beating out of his chest. “How about we get some more drinks, lads?” 

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Weren’t you supposed to get us drinks when you went up there? You came back with ‘pretty boy’ over there but not our drinks.”

Harry leans back in the booth, hand moving up Louis’ thigh until he’s pretty sure he’s getting too close to Louis’ cock. He pretends not to hear the choked sound that Louis makes. “Lou didn’t say anything about getting you guys drinks.” He squeezes Louis’ thigh. “Did you, Lou?”

Louis sends a tight smile towards Liam. “Must’ve forgotten. How about I go get those drinks now?”

-

Harry is absolutely drunk off his arse. He’s been consistently drinking ever since the first time Louis got up to get drinks for everyone, which had been two hours ago. Now, Harry is not a lightweight. But it seems that his friend and Louis’ two friends combined? Recipe for disaster.

The five are all on the dancefloor, laughing and smiling happily while they grind against one another. Harry grinds particularly hard against Liam’s thigh, not even caring that he’s just met the other man, and closes his eyes to enjoy the moment.

It’s been a long time since he went out with Niall, even longer since he had a _group_ of friends to go out with. And, while he didn’t start the night with the other three, he is certainly going to end it with them. 

A body all of a sudden replaces Liam and presses their back against Harry’s front. 

Harry doesn’t have the energy to open his eyes at first, hands automatically latching onto the man’s hips. But they’re much smaller than Liam, curvier, and smell a lot better. He really doesn’t mean to sound creepy, but he knows that smell. 

The hint of cinnamon has been lingering in his senses since the day he met Louis.

“Hi,” Harry breathes out as a greeting. He feels his arms tense up in an effort to not pull Louis even closer, to not tighten his grip on his hips, to not do everything that he’s been dreaming of doing for the past week.

Quite literally. Proof being when he woke up early in the morning, drenched in sweat and as hard as a fucking rock. It had taken approximately 30 seconds of his hand on his cock and Louis on his mind for him to be satisfied.

His eyes open when he doesn’t hear Louis reply, fear running through his veins at the thought that this might not be Louis after all. But when he looks down, he’s met with the bright eyes that he’s been thinking about for a week. 

“Hello, Harold,” Louis says as soon as Harry’s eyes are on him. Louis’ eyes are dilated and Harry can’t help but hope that it’s from something other than the alcohol, no matter how unlikely that is.”Are you having fun?” Louis asks him.

At least, that’s what he thinks Louis said. His entire circuit system seems to crash the moment Louis swivels his hips and begins rocking back against Harry.

“Uh,” Harry chokes out. “Y-yeah, ‘m having a great time. What about you?”

Louis continues to move, leaning his back even further into Harry’s chest. He blinks up innocently at the taller man. “I’m having a marvelous time.”

Harry frantically tries to collect himself, which is a lot harder than he’d like it to be with Louis pressed up against his front in all the right places. He’s always been a lot smoother when trying to flirt with someone, but something about Louis makes him come undone. He leans his head back for a moment and closes his eyes. He inhales deeply, forcing his body to relax.

His fingers untense on Louis’ hips but they stay firm in their place, and Harry begins moving his body in time with the smaller man’s. And it’s everything he could’ve dreamed of if he’s being honest. 

Harry leans down. “This more fun than looking at flats with me for hours?” He lets his lips brush against the shell of Louis’ ear, replaying the sound that emits from his mouth in his mind.

“Hm,” Louis makes a thoughtful noise, his eyes drifting from Harry to their friends surrounding them. The other three seem to be in their own world as they jump and grind against each other. “I might like having you to myself a bit more than this.”

“‘S that why you keep saying no to every place I show you?” Harry slides his hands from Louis’ hips down to the front of his thighs, a finger slipping into one of the holes in his jeans. He rubs his finger against the rough material of the fishnets underneath. “To spend more time with me?”

Louis chuckles softly, flicking his fringe out of his eye. His body moves in two different directions, pushing back into Harry’s crotch and then forward into Harry’s hands on his thighs. He pushes back more rough than usual and Harry can’t contain his gasp.

Louis keeps moving the same way, making Harry’s issue that he’s just noticed that much more difficult to deal with. He’s going to come any second if he doesn’t get this perfect boy off of him.

“Lou, Louis,” Harry rasps, trying to get Louis’ attention. When that doesn’t work, Harry squeezes his hips roughly and pulls him flat against his chest to prevent him from moving. Louis’ chest heaves up and down, head tilting back and locking his eyes on Harry’s. “Gotta go to the bathroom, baby, dance with the boys for a bit.” 

The pet name slips out without any thought, but he doesn’t find himself panicking when he notices the way Louis reacts to it. His head relaxes against Harry’s shoulder, eyes slip shut, and a pleasant hum can be felt vibrating through his chest into Harry’s.

“Go on, I’ll be right back.” He gives Louis a gentle push and sends him into the open arms of Niall.

He rushes to the bathroom, mentally thanking whoever needs to be thanked that it’s empty. Walking into a stall and positioning himself in front of the toilet, he quickly unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock, slightly regretting not wearing any pants tonight since there’s now a wet spot on his jeans. 

The feeling of his fingers wrapping around himself gives him immediate relief, a soft groan falling from his lips. He thinks of the way Louis became so pliant from the simple pet name, imagines all the different ways he could make him fall apart in bed, wishes there was a pair of thin, pink lips wrapped around his cock, and comes with Louis’ name falling from his lips. 

Harry takes a deep breath. Tries not to think about how quickly he’ll grow hard again once Louis is against him. Leaves the restroom in a hast. Can’t stop thinking about if Louis’ found another partner by now. Sighs in relief when he sees him still latched onto Niall.

Louis notices him almost immediately, sliding into his arms within seconds. “Hi,” he breathes, his previously tense body going slack in Harry’s hold.

“Hi, baby,” Harry murmurs, nosing along Louis’ neck. “Miss me?”

“Always.”

-

_**Saturday, September 23** _

Louis can’t believe he let himself stay at Liam’s again. He can hear the man snoring in his ear but when he tries to move, his legs are held down and he realizes that another arm other than Liam’s is wrapped around him. 

He heaves a sigh, exhausted at the thought of getting out of this and promptly deciding to stay put until the other four wake. He does open his eyes, though, just to see who’s where. Zayn is curled in between him and Liam’s bottom half, leaning against Liam’s legs and holding onto one of Louis’, forehead against his thigh. 

His eyes shift to Niall, who’s wrapped around his other leg with his face snuggled into his foot. 

Which means if Zayn and Niall are on his legs, and Liam is snoring into his left shoulder with an arm over his stomach, that only leaves one person left. He attempts to look to his right, not completely being able to after all.

Harry’s face is shoved into his neck, curly hair tickling Louis’ ear a bit. He has a leg wrapped up with Niall’s and then an arm wrapped around Louis’ chest, hand resting on his opposite shoulder (right by Liam’s snoring).

_Shit._ How did Louis end up like this? Well, he knows exactly how he ended up like this, actually, but he’s more concerned about how he _let_ this happen.

Louis still can’t decide if Harry is as into him as he is with him. He knows that the taller man at least thinks he’s attractive. Harry wouldn’t have let Louis dance all over him if he wasn’t, right? But besides Louis being unsure of how Harry feels, there’s the factor that he’s Harry’s client. And if Harry _doesn’t_ feel the same then Louis could very well be searching for a new realtor by the end of the day.

Shaking his head, Louis attempts to clear his thoughts. If anything changes for the worse once everyone wakes up, he might as well enjoy the fact that they all wanted to cuddle up to him. Which, yeah, Louis kind of knew that would happen. He has a habit of getting on everyone’s good side when he’s drunk.

Leading to four boys fighting over where they get to lay down near Louis while Louis himself was already half-asleep on the bed.

He shifts, unconsciously leaning his body more towards Harry. 

The boys all shift with him, and Harry’s arm moves down to right above Liam’s, hand curling around Louis’ side.

Louis wiggles his toes, realizing that both of his legs are asleep. He sighs in resignation, slowly moving his body more and more to try and wake them all up.

“Boys,” he speaks quietly, not wanting to scare any of them awake. “Boys, my legs are asleep, we have to get up.”

He hears Niall groan, shoving his face further into Louis’ unsocked foot.

“Niall, let’s go, help me wake them up.” He feels Niall shake his head ‘no’ in response.

Harry hums into his neck a second later, nuzzling his nose against the smooth skin.

“Harry, will you help me wake the boys up?” He whispers, nosing through the boy’s curly hair.

“Hm,” Harry mumbles. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

There’s that pet name again. Louis couldn’t help himself when he was drunk, had immediately gone soft and pliant, had done exactly as Harry asked. He won’t allow himself to do it again, but his face reddens at the thought. 

“My legs are asleep. They feel all tingly. Gotta get up, H.”

Louis feels him smile against his neck. “Love when you give me nicknames.”

He rolls his eyes but can’t stop the smile from stretching his lips. “I’ll give you more if you get the two boys up that are killing my legs.”

Almost as if Harry knew he was going to say that, he kicks Niall in the bum, successfully waking him, and then throws his leg over Louis to shove Zayn until he’s nearly pushing Liam off the bed. 

Harry lifts his head from Louis’ neck and Louis swears he can see a sparkle in his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You’ll get whatever I want to give.” Louis rolls his eyes, turning to shove Liam, who ends up falling onto the floor with a loud thud. 

Louis sits up to look over the edge of the bed, giggling when he sees Liam holding the arm he landed on in pain. “You’re such a dumbass, Lime.” Louis rolls so he’s sitting up on the bed, legs swinging back and forth. 

“You’re the one who pushed me off the bed!” Liam exclaims with an affronted look.

Louis and the other three boys laugh at Liam’s expense, not stopping even when the large man begins hitting them with his pillow.

“Stop, stop!” Louis yells, curled into a ball underneath where Liam is kneeling above him, pillow poised in the air, ready to attack again. “I surrender! It was my fault!”

Liam narrows his eyes, thinking for a moment. And then hits Louis one last time directly in the face. 

Soon after that, Liam’s gotten out three spare toothbrushes (Louis already has one for when he stays over) and all of them have moved to the living room, letting Liam cook them a greasy breakfast. 

Niall is the only one that seems to not have a hangover while Louis, Harry, and Zayn are all curled into each other on the couch, trying to block out the Irishman's loud voice. 

Louis, once again in the middle of two warm bodies, turns his head to Harry. The two haven’t really had a chance to talk so far this morning, but they haven’t left each other’s sides either. 

“D’we have showings today?” Louis mumbles, moving closer to Harry, causing Zayn to fall with the movement. 

Harry’s head is leaned back on the couch, an arm wrapped around Louis’ waist. “Yeah, we’re supposed to go at 1. We’ve got four today, maybe three.”

“What time is it?” 

Just like when Louis asked Liam that a week ago, Harry grabs Louis’ wrist and checks his watch. “Almost eleven.”

“Why don’t I just start checking my own watch? Everyone else checks it,” Louis grumbles, eyes slipping shut as he makes himself comfortable on Harry’s chest. 

He nudges Harry. “Wake me up once the food is cool. I hate eating hot food.”

Harry hums in response and tightens his grip on Louis’ waist.

Louis is so gone for this boy.

-

They’re at the first showing of the day, Harry unlocking the door as Louis rambles on about a client he has at work right now.

It ends abruptly when he sees the inside of the flat. 

“No,” he says immediately. “Are you kidding me? The tile is hideous.”

The next three go very similarly. One is because there’s a ceiling fan in the kitchen, another because the countertops look like they’re made of plastic, and the last one is because there’s a minuscule hole in the wall by the light switch.

“I can’t believe how picky you are. I’ve never had a client say no for something like such a small hole in the wall.”

“Your other clients must have low standards.” Louis kicks his feet up on the dashboard of Harry’s car, feet bare once again.

“You’re crazy, Louis. All those flats were fine.”

“Did you like them?”

Harry pauses for a second, not expecting the question. “Uh,” he stutters for a moment, “well, no, I didn’t.”

“So, why do you expect me to like them?” 

“Well, I’m not supposed to pick places that _I_ would like. I’m supposed to choose places I think the client would like.”

“I like what you like, love. Not the shit you’ve been showing me.”

Harry grumbles, “I’ll try not to take offense to that.”

“I have another topic of conversation to discuss, if you don’t mind,” Louis switches things up so abruptly that Harry fears he’ll suffer from whiplash. “About the way I acted last night when I was drunk. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“Lou,” Harry starts but is cut off by Louis.

“Like, I know at the moment you were fine, but I’m sorry that if, when you woke up, you regretted letting me all over you and stuff.”

“I don’t regret it,” Harry speaks quickly, wanting to say it before Louis could interrupt again.

Harry sees Louis’ head snap in his direction, eyes wide. He tries to look the opposite of what he feels; calm. With Louis staring at him like that, he can’t tell if that was the absolute wrong thing to say or the completely right thing to say. 

“Yeah?” Louis finally speaks, voice higher than usual. “Careful what you say, Harry.”

“Why?” Harry asks in a rush, not sure if Louis’ saying that to be mysterious or if that was the wrong thing to say.

A smirk is the only response he gets, so it’s safe to assume that he said it to be mysterious.

“Whatever,” Harry grumbles. “Am I taking you home, or what? Do you have somewhere to be that I need to drop you?”

Louis takes a moment to respond, looking at something on his phone quite intensely. “Uhhh,” he says. “Bring me home. Nowhere to be tonight. Just eating some takeout and doing some work, I guess.”

Harry processes what’s been said, catching onto the dampened mood, and tries to figure what’s wrong. A lightbulb practically lights up in his head when he thinks of what may be the answer. “Did you hear anything back from that magazine?”

The silence that follows the question is answer enough. 

“Hey, do you think I could come up to yours for a bit?” Harry asks, already thinking of ways to cheer Louis up.

“Huh?” Louis replies, unsure.

Quickly, Harry comes up with an excuse. “Niall texted earlier, said he’s bringing a lass home tonight and would prefer if I made myself scarce for a few hours.”

Harry glances at the time in his car, noting that they spent four hours looking at four different flats throughout the city. It’s nearing five-thirty by now, almost dinnertime.

“Um, yeah, I guess you can come up,” Louis mumbles. “It’s kinda a small hotel room, though, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be in there.”

“I’ll be fine. We can watch some TV and eat takeout together, it’ll be fun.”

Louis leans back in his seat, giving Harry a small smile. “Okay, H. Sounds fun.”

With the way Louis sounds like he’s still horribly sad, Harry makes it his goal to make him much happier by the end of the night.

Having goals like this are very normal for Harry; he does so whenever he sees any of his friends in a slump. He’s never done so with a man that he very seriously likes and is also a client, though.

No point in stopping it now. Harry’s in way too deep to even think about taking a step back.

-

As soon as Harry steps into Louis’ hotel room, Louis can’t help but feel self-conscious about the messy floor. He’s not a very clean person, but if he’d known he was going to have company, he would’ve cleaned up at some point.

“Sorry about the mess,” he mumbles shyly, setting his keys, wallet, and phone down on the desk that the hotel provides. His room may be small, but it has everything Louis needs for the time being. A mini-fridge, dresser, TV, desk, and a king-size bed. The bathroom is plenty large for Louis’ small figure, and he’s bought his own soap.

Really, Louis could live here for the rest of the year and not be bothered. He feels comfortable in the space, no matter how much he should be living in an actual home.

“Don’t worry about it, I live with Niall. The man’s a mess all the time.”

Louis hums in response, going about his usual routine for when he’s just gotten home. He goes to the dresser, searching for a clean pair of sweatpants to change into, as well as a clean pair of briefs. It’s not that he sweats a lot, or makes his briefs super dirty during the day, but the feeling of putting on a clean pair always gets him in the mood to do something productive instead of just sitting and scrolling on his phone.

He glances over his shoulder once he’s grabbed his clothing, noticing that Harry’s just standing by the bed, looking around like he’s unsure of what to do.

“You can have a seat, H,” Louis says. “I’m just gonna change in the bathroom real quick. Just make yourself comfortable.” 

He turns to walk towards the bathroom, placing his hand on Harry’s bicep as he passes even though it was completely unnecessary. Even as he’s well past him, his hand lingers as long as possible and he may have squeezed on accident, not being able to stop himself once he felt the hard muscles there.

Louis’ not one for being manhandled (lie) and he would never ask Harry to do anything of the sort (another lie) and he will most certainly not be daydreaming about it for the coming days (one more lie!), but he thinks that Harry could definitely hold him up with one arm and fuck him against the wall.

Not that he’s thinking about that.

Louis quickly changes in the bathroom and then, after putting his clothes in the laundry basket he brought from his old flat, heads straight for his laptop that’s sitting on the desk. 

“Nuh-uh,” Harry shakes his head and Louis feels a light tug from one of his pockets. He looks down to see Harry’s hand there, keeping him from sitting down at the desk. “You said you’d watch movies and eat take out with me.”

Louis huffs, crossing his arms. “I also said that I had some work to do.”

Harry widens his eyes and looks up at Louis with a pout. “Are you sure it can’t wait?”

It takes just about everything in him to not pounce on Harry at that moment, what with the way he’s pouting his lips and looking so damn kissable it should be a sin. “Fine.”

Louis crawls onto the bed, leaning against the headboard on the side that Harry’s not against. The other man is lucky that he didn’t take Louis’ side of the bed.

“Yay!” Harry cheers quietly. He settles back against his pillows, opening google on his phone. Louis doesn’t question what he’s doing, just leans his head back and closes his eyes for a moment. His body feels weirdly tense and he can’t figure out why. “Baby, what do we want for dinner?” He hears from Harry.

Almost like it’s instinct, Louis’ body goes slack and his head lolls to the side. “Want burgers and fries,” he mumbles.

It’s weird how much his body reacts to a simple pet name. He’s always had a thing for being called ‘baby’ and never bothered to deny it before. But he’s never let his guard down so quickly when someone called him that, not the way he does with Harry.

“M’kay, I know a good place near here. Hey, come a little closer, it’s cold in here.”

Louis opens his eyes and sees Harry making an order through an app on his phone, the arm that’s not in use stretched out just enough for Louis to know that he’s meant to fill the space there. He can’t help but think of how fast things seem to move with Harry, but even when he does think of it, it never feels wrong. He’s never scared.

Everything with Harry has felt right since the beginning, no matter how quickly things are moving. Especially after drinking together tonight and Louis being so handsy. It’s as if Harry completely embraced the fact that Louis likes a lot of affection.

Louis slowly shifts closer, nervous now that Harry is only getting closer. He attempts to settle an inch or two away, bodies not touching but close enough to feel the heat of each other. 

Harry doesn’t seem to like that very much, because next thing Louis knows, he’s sliding an arm underneath him and around his waist, pulling him flush against his side.

“When I say ‘come closer,’ Lou, I don’t mean ‘sit an inch away from me,’” Harry grumbles, hand settling on the dip in Louis’ waist while he completes the mobile order.

Louis rolls his eyes, attempting to calm himself down. Louis loves how soft Harry’s being with him right now, could honestly either fall asleep or get hard very easily. Depending on where the mood goes. 

“My bad, I didn’t know that I should be reading your mind.”

“Oh, don’t play,” Harry drops his phone to his side, head-turning to look down at Louis. “You knew exactly what I wanted.”

A small smile graces Louis’ lips. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I just wanted you to work for it.”

Harry grins down at him and hums in response, clearly not believing a word Louis’ saying. “Okay.”

Soon after that, the food is delivered and the two fall into smooth conversation. Everything feels so easy with Harry that Louis’ not even surprised that he’s now in between his longer legs, leaning against his chest.

“You wanna know something?” Harry asks, chest rumbling underneath Louis. 

Louis flicks through the channels on the TV. “Hm, what is it?”

He feels Harry heave a sigh and can almost hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “I quite like holding you like this.” He moves his hands so that one is resting on Louis’ tummy and the other is gripping his hip.

“Makes me feel small,” Louis replies. _I like feeling small._

“Is that bad? We can move if you want.”

Louis doesn’t say anything this time, just rests his head back against Harry’s shoulder and lets his body relax under the warm touches. He’s pretty sure he could fall asleep in this position, with Harry’s chest moving up and down under him with every breath, his hands holding onto him firmly but not tightly, the feeling of his even breath brushing against his ear. 

And even further down, the feeling of Harry’s legs pressed against the outside of Louis, lower back leaning on his crotch. If Harry got hard…

Not that he would. Or will. Louis doesn’t even look that good right now, in sweatpants and a loose shirt. If he was dressed the way he was last night, then he would expect that type of reaction. But not right now, when he looks like a bum and has just eaten a double cheeseburger.

Speaking of, Harry seems to be thinking of the same thing.

“I liked your outfit last night,” he speaks quietly, seemingly nervous for what Louis may say in return.

Louis nuzzles his head back even further, definitely messing up his hair. “You didn’t think it was too much? Or weird?” And honestly, Louis hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to put his insecurities out there for Harry to fix.

“Almost came in my pants when I saw you, baby. Definitely not weird.”

That had to be a joke. Right? Harry wouldn’t say something like that and actually mean it, would he? Louis really hopes he _did_ mean it, but he refuses to believe it until confirmed.

“Hmph,” Louis haughtily says. “No proof. That means you’re lying.”

Louis shifts in the larger man’s hold, attempting to move further up his body, and in the process, he brushes against something that doesn’t seem entirely soft. _Holy shit._ Holy _shit._ Is Harry hard? What from? The conversation? Louis? _What the fuck?_

“Too bad they don’t put cameras in the bathroom stalls. That would be all the proof you’d need.” Harry seems to freeze a bit after he’s said that.

Louis can’t believe he just said that, but can only assume that he didn’t really mean to, considering the way he’s reacting. Louis feels his cock harden in his sweatpants, not able to stop himself from imagining Harry jerking off in the bathroom, thinking of Louis the whole time.

“I’ll be sure to set up a camera in there next time,” Louis says, almost to himself from how quiet it was, but gets the desired reaction when he feels Harry’s hips thrust forward a little bit.

Louis had not expected to end up like this when he told Harry he could come up for a few hours. He knows that he won’t let anything too explicit happen (yet), but for now, he’s enjoying Harry’s strong hands holding him in place.

“What movie d’ya wanna watch, H?”

Harry doesn’t answer at first, seemingly distracted. Louis leans his head back to look up at him and his mouth goes dry at the sight. Harry’s head is leaned back, eyes would be looking at the ceiling if they weren’t closed, and his jaw is clenched shut.

Louis thinks about what could be causing this because it must be something other than what they were just talking about. He focuses on every point where their bodies are touching and almost gasps when he finds what the problem is.

He hadn’t even realized that he moved or that Harry had moved him (he really couldn’t tell you which), but he’s moved so far up that his round cheeks are pressed against Harry. Specifically, Harry’s cock.

To be sure that this is the cause, he rocks his hips backward, eyes watching as Harry reacts in the most beautiful way possible.

His whole face seems to relax, mouth falling open with a soft sigh spilling out.

Louis thinks that maybe he should remove his arse from Harry’s crotch, but then thinks of how good he feels and how good Harry must feel. Mostly how he himself feels. It’s been a long time since he’s had any sort of action, and, to be honest, if the two were to start rocking against each other, Louis could come untouched right into his trousers.

And he’s not even ashamed of that thought because he’s pretty sure Harry would outright moan if Louis said that aloud.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He doesn’t mean to add the term of endearment but doesn’t really mind once it’s come out. The only thing he wouldn’t call Harry is ‘baby.’ He likes to think that name is reserved for himself. 

He sees Harry’s lips curl up just a little. “‘M fine.” He looks down at Louis. “Please never mention this, this is embarrassing.”

Louis can’t help but smirk. “I’ll keep the memory up here then,” he taps his temple. “You know, for personal use.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, seeming to be too shocked by the comment to properly react at first. “We should, um,” he stutters for a moment, eyes never leaving Louis’ even as Louis purposely grinds back against his cock. “Start a movie. Please.”

Bummer. Harry had just begun to sound desperate. Louis loves making his partners desperate. “You sure you don’t wanna do something else?” He murmurs in return, moving his hand to rub Harry’s thigh.

“Louis, baby, please turn on a movie.” 

Louis can’t help but giggle at the strained sound of Harry’s voice. “Alright.”

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Harry says into Louis’ ear, lips brushing against it. 

Louis grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I couldn’t help it, love, you made it so easy.”

“All for show, then?”

“Definitely not all for show,” Louis looks back to the TV, putting on a random cooking show. “The bare minimum was for show.”

“You know what’s crazy?” Harry changes the topic abruptly. “We’ve only known each other for a week.”

Louis lets out a breathless laugh, settling his hands over Harry’s where they’re now laying over his tummy. “Feels like a very long time.”

“Yeah. Been the best week of my life,” Harry says honestly. “It passed by so quickly.”

“I know.”

“Hey, Lou?” Harry prompts.

Louis turns his head to nuzzle his nose into Harry’s neck. “Yeah?”

“I know they haven’t contacted you yet, but I know you’ll get the job.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “There’s no way that I will. I don’t even have the experience that they requested.”

“I believe in you, baby,” Harry noses his way through Louis’ feathery hair. “I just have a good feeling that you’ll get everything you want, somehow.”

“There’s a lot more that I want than just that.”

“Like what?”

“Do you have all night?” Louis questions jokingly. 

“Until you want me gone.”

Louis thinks of all the things he wants in life, everything he wants to achieve before he’s 30, everything he wants to provide for his family, everything he wants to experience. And he tells Harry all of it.

He tells Harry about how he wants to buy his family a new house, one big enough for everyone to have their own room. How he wants to visit the seven wonders of the world, how he wants to be the cause of something wonderful, to have an influence, how he wants to have a family and love them with his whole heart.

Harry takes it all in stride, never failing to encourage Louis when he starts to trail off. Always joining Louis when he describes the way he would do all of these things, makes them even more extravagant than usual. 

Louis watches Harry with wide eyes the whole time, not able to believe how wonderful this man really is.

Louis thinks he falls a little bit in love that night. 

-

Harry ends up going home at two in the morning, a fulfilling glow in his chest, an anxious feeling in his stomach, anticipating the next time he gets to see him. The small man that he just left in a hotel room. The man that Harry thinks he might already be in love with.

-

**_Wednesday, October 4_ **

A week and a half later, Louis still hasn’t found any flats that he likes. After spending that quality time together on that Saturday, the whole next week was filled with showings. 

It wasn’t too disrupting to their daily routine since they had decided to actually stick to a schedule of what days they would go to showings, but they’ve still been to ten showings, as well as working, seeing friends, and taking care of themselves.

It’s the busiest Louis’ been ever since he started working at _Cowell Reads,_ and he finds that he quite likes it. He’s headed to the café now, Harry already waiting there since Louis left work late. He was supposed to be there by five o’clock today, giving him a lot of extra time considering he gets off work at four.

But the extra time went straight to his head and he felt like he had all the time in the world. Leading him to, inevitably, rush to the café, just like the first few times the two got together. It’s already five-oh-one, so there isn’t any point in rushing, but the less late he is is a win in Louis’ book. 

The thing that’s stressing him out the most, is that Harry has expressed how much he hates when people are late. He never said it _about_ Louis, but Louis can catch a hint.

He spots the café ahead - five-oh-three - and nearly cries in relief. He doesn’t usually care about being late, likes that it annoys his friends so much, but something about disappointing Harry is ripping his chest apart and he hates it.

And now, simply because he can never keep track of time, he’s 1) late and 2) he looks horrible. How is he supposed to get Harry to ask him out by the end of this if he looks so bad all the time?

It seems, though, that Harry doesn’t care about how Louis looks. When Louis walks in at five-oh-four, Harry merely glances at him before he’s standing up from their usual table. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Louis says immediately, following Harry out to his car. 

It’s quite unfair how beautiful Harry looks today, on a day he won’t be happy with Louis. He’s not wearing anything fancy; just a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. But he looks so cozy and comfortable that all Louis wants to do is cuddle.

Because that’s a thing now. Maybe once or twice a week, Harry comes up to Louis’ hotel room and they cuddle for hours, Louis occasionally teasing him, and then Harry leaves when he wakes up in the middle of the night, leaving a note for Louis to read in the morning. 

“It’s fine, Lou, we’ve still got plenty of time to see the place that’s scheduled for today.”

Harry doesn’t seem mad, exactly, but he doesn’t seem happy either.

“I really am sorry,” Louis continues, buckling his seatbelt once he gets in the car. “I had an alarm ready, but I forgot to turn it on.”

“I’m not mad, Louis. I know you get caught up in your work.”

Louis knows he’s not mad. If he was mad he wouldn’t have called him _Lou._ But he can also tell that he isn’t very happy with Louis because he hasn’t called him _baby._ Louis understands that Harry doesn’t _have_ to call him 'baby' to be happy with him, but that’s how Harry’s greeted him every time they saw each other ever since the club. 

“Harry,” Louis whines, wriggling in his seat. He’s desperate for attention at this point, having not gotten any from Zayn during work and none from Liam all day yesterday. “Please forgive me, I’ll do anything. I know you hate when I’m late, please, I’m sorry, I hate when you’re upset with me, H, please-”

He could’ve easily continued, planning to keep going until Harry broke. It turns out that that happened a lot sooner than later. 

“Lou, baby, take a breath, would you?” Harry says in disbelief. “I don’t know how you can say so much so fast.”

Louis beams, basking in the pet name and finally sitting still. “You’re not mad anymore,” Louis says in satisfaction.

Harry sighs, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “How can I be?” He mutters. 

Louis can’t help the giggle that comes out, fingering at the hem of his shirt. He won’t let himself believe that Harry likes him, or wants to be with him, not until Harry says so. But he knows that he has some sort of effect on the man, even if it is just physical. 

A few minutes later, they arrive at the flat that Harry chose for today. The two men walk up to it, the car parked in the flat’s designated parking spot. 

_It really is a nice area,_ Louis thinks. There’s plenty of greenery, bushes, and flowers in the flower bed in front of the building, and it also doesn’t look like the place is falling apart. 

Another perk is that it’s more secluded but only one tube stop from work and Liam’s place, as opposed to the three that he used to sit through when coming from his old place. He could see himself living here. 

“Louis?”

“What?” Louis jumps at the sound of Harry interrupting his thoughts, realizing that they’ve walked up to the second floor by now. There’s no elevator here, but the four-story building didn’t need it. The walk wasn’t bad, even for someone on the top floor.

Harry sighs, proceeding to unlock the door. “I asked if you could at least go through with this whole tour _without_ interrupting me?”

Louis stares for a moment, an anxious feeling building in his gut. He’s pretty sure he knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to think about it quite yet. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do my best.”

Harry’s eyes lock on his, one eyebrow-raising. 

“Okay, fine, I won’t say anything until the very end,” Louis holds his hands up in surrender, a small smile lifting his lips. 

The taller man turned back to the door, turning the knob to open it. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

Louis’ body tingles at the pet name, his chest flushing under his shirt.

He tries to pay attention throughout the tour, to listen to what Harry has to say about it, he really does. He also tries really hard to think of things he doesn’t like about it, finding it increasingly difficult within the past week.

Harry picked new places for them to look at, ones that he would like (just as Louis asked him to), and ever since then, Louis’ had trouble looking for things he doesn’t like. He always comes up with something, eventually, but he’s beginning to get worried. 

This flat in particular is very hard to say no to. The floors are a light-colored hardwood, sleek-looking, and matching the cream-colored walls quite well. The whole place has a very bright feel to it. The large glass doors that lead to a balcony let the light in and the open kitchen catches the light in the most spectacular way. 

Don’t even get him started on the kitchen. It may be the most beautiful part of the place, and while he doesn’t necessarily _use_ the kitchen, that doesn't mean he can’t have a nice one for his friends to cook in when they visit. 

His eyes linger on almost every part of the house, admiring the brick mantle that his TV would go on, the fireplace below is absolutely marvelous. He can’t even hear Harry’s voice spewing facts about the building over his thoughts.

Louis wants to live here. He can imagine his shoes kicked off by the door, a bigger pair sitting upright next to them. Can practically see where cozy nights in will take place on his couch, enough room for a whole for all his friends. And he can see dinner being made in the kitchen.

_Oh my, god,_ Louis thinks. He can’t believe he let himself get this far. Because not only can he see himself living here, but he sees himself _and Harry_ living here. 

His head snaps in the direction of Harry, pretending that he’s been listening the whole time as the taller man continues talking. He honestly thought he was only halfway there, just far enough where it would be easy to force himself to move on once Harry stops talking to him. 

But somehow he’s gone and let himself fall in love.

-

“Liam!” Louis’ shouting, he knows he is. He feels very sorry for the neighbors he’s currently disturbing, but he’s been knocking for about six seconds now and Liam has still not opened the door. 

As soon as he’s about to yell again, the door swings open. “Fuck, Louis, can you give a man a fucking second to get out of the shower?”

Louis doesn’t pay him any mind, barging right past the half-naked man and curling up into the corner of Liam’s couch.

After the showing with Harry, where Louis had come up with a shitty excuse as to why he didn’t want it (and proceeding to write down which showing it was so he could eventually tell Harry he wanted it), Louis decided that he couldn’t be alone. 

And he couldn’t. Just because he’s already made his impulsive decision of the year doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought very hard about leaving the country just so he doesn’t have to face Harry once he finally tells him the truth.

Because of course Louis’ going to tell the truth. He’s never been one to hide his feelings forever, just for a limited amount of time until he’s ready to let them out.

He feels Liam’s heavy, soaking wet body fall onto the couch next to him.

“You wanna cuddle or you wanna rant?” He asks.

Louis almost cries at how well Liam knows him. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have him as a friend.

“Fell in love with him,” Louis mumbles. “Just freaking out a bit.”

Code for: a cuddle.

Liam’s arm curls around Louis’ shoulders and pulls him close, resting his chin on top of Louis’ feathery hair. His thumb rubs soothing circles into Louis’ shoulder. “I think it’ll turn out fine,” Liam speaks softly, letting his friend have a moment to quietly process things. The whole world knows that Louis won’t be quiet unless he’s being held.

“I found the flat today,” Louis says after a few minutes.

“Huh?” Liam asks in confusion.

Louis huffs. “The flat I want to buy. I found it. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

“Oh?” Liam voices his surprise. “That’s good. When are you moving in?”

Louis hesitates. He knows how badly Liam wants him to live in an actual home, but he also knows that Liam always lets him have his way. So this could go in two very different directions.

“I didn’t tell Harry yet.”

Liam’s brows scrunch in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m scared.” His voice practically comes out as a whisper, but Louis doesn’t bother saying it any louder. “What if he stops talking to me as soon as I’m not his client anymore?”

“Lou,” Liam sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t think that will happen. And you _need_ to live in a real place, you can’t keep living in a hotel room.” 

“I want him more than I want to live in a real flat, Li.’S not fair, he doesn’t want me. Why doesn’t he want me?” Louis digs his face into Liam’s chest, a pout set on his mouth.

Liam rolls his eyes and thinks about how clueless Louis must be if he thinks that Harry doesn’t want him. “Louis, he calls you baby every time he sees you, right?” Once Louis hums in response, Liam continues. “And he hangs out with you in your horrible hotel room for hours every week, right? And from what you’ve told me, you guys get very physical to a point that I don’t want to say it out loud,” Louis giggles at that, making Liam feel a little better. “Do you _really_ think he doesn’t want you?” Liam asks softly.

Louis stares down at his hand that’s resting on his friend's stomach. When he thinks about it logically, he knows Harry wants him, even if that means only physically. And when he thinks about it even harder, he knows Harry wants him beyond the physical things. 

After not answering for more than a minute, Liam says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Whatever,” Louis grumbles. He begins extracting himself from Liam’s embrace, standing to his feet. “I have to go. Harry said he wants to come by tonight and he usually comes around seven and it’s already past six.”

He walks towards the door, patting his pockets and looking down at his feet to check for all his things. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off in his haste to receive comfort. Louis turns back around, finding Liam already standing there. 

“Do you really think he’ll want me the way I want him?” He twists his fingers together, a nervous habit that he’s tried to get rid of.

He looks up at Liam’s kind smile. “I’ve only been around the two of you once, that time at the club, but it didn’t seem like he looked at anyone but you.”

Louis’ face brightens a little at the thought of all Harry’s attention. “Okay. I’ll tell him soon, Li, I promise. I know I can’t keep living in a hotel room.”

“Okay. Go on, I know you’re gonna change your outfit at least three times before he gets there,” Liam pushes him out the door. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

-

Harry arrived at Louis’ hotel room about an hour and a half ago. He was almost late since he’d been caught up in trying to find a place Louis would like. He thought Louis would want the place they went to today, but he had come up with another silly reason to say no.

Back to the point, though. Harry’s been at Louis’ for almost two hours and he thinks he might die soon. It’s not that Louis’ ever been very modest. Harry knows the smaller man likes to show off and he knows Louis likes to have a lot of attention.

Which might be a problem at the moment.

Harry’s sitting on his usual side of the bed, leaned back against his pillows and scrolling through random apps on his phone, trying very hard not to look at Louis. He’s known since the day they first met that Louis is a beautiful man, didn’t have to see him without clothes, or even an inch of skin to know that.

But now he sees _a lot_ of skin. A lot of legs, more like. And he’s trying his damn hardest to keep his eyes off Louis’ thighs and the bottom of his ass cheeks because _yes,_ Louis’ wearing booty shorts that Harry thinks are a size too small and he’s ninety percent sure that he’s not wearing any underwear underneath. To put it simply, Harry’s been half-hard for almost two hours.

“Harry,” he hears Louis whine from his right. “Harry, what are you doing?”

“‘M just on my phone, Lou, what’s up?” His eyes don’t leave the screen of his phone but he tilts his head more towards Louis to try to satisfy the boy.

“Get off, you’re not cuddling me.” Harry can practically hear the pout in his voice. 

“In a minute.”

Louis grumbles under his breath, something along the lines of “don’t wanna wait a minute,” and then he’s moving. Harry doesn’t pay attention to what Louis’ goal is at first, but then he feels a leg swinging over to the other side of his body.

“Lou, what are you doing?” Harry asks, attempting to sit up so Louis doesn’t land on-

Oh my, god. He’s done it. Louis’ straddling Harry’s hips and he’s nestling his almost bare bum right against Harry’s cock.

Harry’s hands land on his hips and he finally drinks in the sight of the petite man. Which isn’t the best idea if he wants to keep his cock at bay.

The first thing he _really_ notices is that Louis’ legs are smooth, and he almost does something completely irrational, like shift down and kiss his shaved thighs. Louis’ shirt is rucked up his stomach, showing a little bit of his slim waist and wide hips. Harry eyes the side of the boy’s hips, trying to get a view of what must be a lot of ass hanging out of his shorts.

Harry thinks he could probably come soon if he let himself. 

He looks up at Louis, whose legs are tightening around Harry’s hips every once in a while. “Is there a reason you’re sitting on top of me?” He tries to sound calm, collected, everything that he’s not.

Louis shifts his hips, cocking his head to the side as if he’s thinking. As if he’s not putting on a whole show just so he can move his bum against Harry’s - rather large - cock. 

“You weren’t paying attention to me.”

“I told you to wait a minute.”

“I didn’t wanna wait a minute. Wanted it now.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks at the wording. “What exactly do you want?”

Louis huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. His thighs stop holding up the little weight he was keeping off Harry, settling down fully. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, just keeps moving in any way that he can. 

“Why were you ignoring me?” Louis asks abruptly.

Harry can’t even contain the shock that must be written all over his face. “What?”

“You’ve been ignoring me the whole time you’ve been here,” Louis tucks his chin to his chest, a pout on his lips. “Did I do something?”

A choked out laugh escapes Harry’s body. He squeezes his eyes shut and leans his head back as far as he can. “I think you know exactly what you did, you just want me to say it for you.”

“No, don’t want you to say it for me.” Harry opens his eyes in time to see Louis’ hands drifting to his own ass, pulling the fabric of his shorts until it looks like he could be wearing a thong. Harry wishes he could see it. “Want you to say why it’s making you ignore me.”

Harry’s eyes dart to Louis’ and he can’t help the feeling rising in his chest. His grip on Louis’ hips tighten and he moves the boy until his cock slips perfectly between his cheeks. No doubt about it now. 

Louis can definitely feel how hard he is. 

_“That_ is why I’ve been ignoring you.”

Louis giggles at that, his hands coming to rest on Harry’s chest as he leans down into his space. “That’s no reason to ignore me, Harold. If anything, you should be paying even more attention to me.”

Harry’s silent for a moment, not sure what to say next. It’s hard to focus with Louis’ face two inches away from his, hands now resting on either side of Harry’s neck, and his bum rocking back and forth on his cock. Harry can feel, where his shirt moved up, the wet fabric of Louis’ shorts rubbing against his stomach.

He looks into the smaller man's eyes, admittedly a little desperate, and says, “What are you trying to do to me?”

Louis leans closer, passing Harry’s lips and going for his ear. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good, H,” he whispers, leaving a light kiss right below his ear. 

“Holy shit,” Harry breathes. 

It doesn’t even matter to him that this maybe shouldn’t turn him on so much. If he had a little more self-control, he might even be able to flip Louis over and tease him instead. But, as it is, Harry hasn’t gotten any action in months and Louis feels so good on top of him and he doesn’t even consider flipping their position. 

“Harry?” Louis asks quietly while dragging his lips up and down Harry’s neck.

“Yeah, baby? What is it?” 

He feels Louis smile against his neck, feels the way the fingers on his left-hand drift to tug at the hairs on his nape. 

“Like it when you call me baby.”

“Should I call you it more often?”

Louis shakes his head, pressing a kiss to the underside of Harry’s jaw. “No, you say it a good amount now. Don’t want you to overdo it, do we?”

“‘Course not,” Harry’s voice hitches, making the mistake of speaking in the same moment that Louis begins grinding down a little more harshly. 

Harry can feel his cock throbbing, begging to release, but all he does is enjoy the feeling for as long as possible. There’s no way he’s gonna come in his pants in front of Louis, and he will absolutely not jerk off in the boy’s bathroom. 

He hears a quiet moan, face flushing when he realizes it came from himself. Louis’ pace quickens at the sound, nipping at Harry’s neck every once in a while. Harry wants him to leave a mark so dark that there’s no questioning what it is. 

When he feels Louis pull his hair a little more harshly, a gasp falls through his lips. He feels the heat rising in his stomach, his cock aching for _just a little more._

His hands fly down to Louis’ hips, halting him immediately. “Louis,” he exhales, trying to focus on what’s going on in the show that’s on the TV, attempting to gain a little bit of control over himself.

“What is it, H?” He tries to move his hips a little, only succeeding in having Harry hold on tighter. 

“I need you to stop,” Harry says through clenched teeth. 

Louis’ head appears in his vision, blocking the light of the TV. There’s a wrinkle between his brows and a frown on his lips. Harry reaches up to smooth his forehead. “Why? What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

The more Louis speaks, the more Harry can hear the panic in his voice. The smaller boy begins to pull away even more, ready to get off of Harry’s lap.

“Hey, no,” Harry soothes, holding Louis in place. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why do you want me to stop?” Louis pouts, now sitting back up but still straddling Harry’s hips. 

“Louis, baby, I’m pretty sure you can _feel_ why I need you to stop.”

Louis wiggles his hips. “What, are you gonna come?” He asks innocently. 

An exasperated laugh bursts through Harry. “Hell yeah, I’m about to come. Have you seen yourself? And the way you were moving? Are you kidding me?”

The blush that rises to Louis’ cheeks is the most precious thing Harry’s ever seen. “You think I’m hot?’

The smile that graces Harry’s mouth is nothing if not fond. “Baby, I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Harry feels a brief moment of anxiety once he processes his words. It sounded a little too much like a confession. But the wide smile that Louis gives him in return is enough for him to not worry about it too much. 

Louis slides off of Harry’s lap, curling up under the arm that Harry offers him. His head falls to rest against Harry’s chest and his hands grab onto his shirt, curling into fists. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles sweetly.

“Of course, doll.”

After that, Harry’s boner doesn’t go away until he gets back home, and neither does Louis’. The two stayed curled against each other, asleep until Harry woke up around three forty-five in the morning. He slipped away from Louis, kissed his forehead, and left to go home.

No one had to know that he jerked off in the bathroom once he got there. 

-

**_Saturday, October 7_ **

“So, when are you gonna tell him?” Niall’s voice comes out of nowhere, startling Harry out of his daydream.

He’s cooking lunch for himself right now, thinking about what it would be like to do this every day, but for two.

“Jesus, Niall, you scared the shit out of me, I didn’t even know you were home.”

Nialls scoffs. “Of course you didn’t, you’ve been stuck in your head so much lately. And I bet I can guess who’s in there.”

“What are you talking about, Ni?” Harry turns away from his finished meal, letting it cool for a moment. 

“ _What I’m talking about,_ ” Niall says, annoyed, “is when are you going to tell Louis you want to be his boyfriend?”

Harry’s eyes widen at the accusation, having never told Niall anything of the sort. “W-what? No, I don’t want to be his- I don’t want to date -”

“Harry, mate. We’ve been friends for years now. I know when you like someone, trust me.”

Harry shrinks in on himself a little bit, mumbling, “Still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So,” Niall starts, already smirking. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t mind if I had a gay friend that I want to set him up with?”

A pit forms in his stomach at the thought of someone else going on dates with Louis, taking care of him, providing for him. No. A very deep part of Harry knows that he’s the one that’s meant to do those things for Louis. 

“N-no,” Harry stutters, turning back to his lunch on the counter behind him. “‘M just his realtor, doesn’t matter.”

Niall scoffs and Harry can hear him walk to the couch with heavy footsteps, bare feet slapping against the hardwood. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters mockingly. “Can’t fucking believe this.”

“What?” Harry asks immediately, moving towards the living room and standing in front of Niall. “What can you not believe?”

“The fact that I’ve never seen two people, who, by the way, are most definitely both in love with each other, make things so complicated.”

_In love with each other._ Harry isn’t in love with Louis. He’s not. Just because he wants to hold Louis every time there’s even a small pout on his lips doesn’t mean he’s in love with him. Wanting to be the one to take care of him when he’s sick doesn’t mean anything. And neither does wanting to be with him in every way possible for the rest of his life.

Okay. Maybe Harry might be in love with Louis. But. 

“There’s no way Louis’ in love with me.”

“Why is there no way that Louis is in love with you?” Niall asks, leaning back against the couch and throwing an arm over his face. 

Harry sits down next to his friend, brows furrowed together, clutching his plate of food in his lap. “He’s Louis. He wants so much in life.”

“And?”

“And he’s so pretty and way too out of my league. There’s no way he would even _think_ about going for me.”

Harry glances at Niall, seeing the small smile on his lips. 

“Do you have any logical reasons that he wouldn’t be in love with you?”

“What? I just gave you two reasons.”

“No,” Niall shakes his head, shifting on his cushion so that he’s facing Harry completely. “I mean, do you have any good reasons? Because Louis wanting a lot in life isn’t even a reason.”

“Well-” Harry tries to come up with something else to say. Think of something that Louis’ done that’s a hint that he may not want him. 

But the only thing he can think of is how Louis’ always asking for Harry’s approval and praise when they’re together. How he’s always so pliant once Harry calls him ‘baby,’ or how he goes soft when he places his hand on the back of Louis’ neck. 

He wants to say that Louis is probably like that with all of his friends, but something in Harry’s chest tells him he’s wrong. 

Harry inhales a deep breath, collapsing back into the sofa from his previously tense position. He breathes out, looking to Niall with a vulnerable expression. 

How did he not know until now that he’s in love with Louis? Does Louis love him back? 

For the third time that night, Niall starts his sentence with, “So,” a grin stretched across his mouth. “When are you going to tell him?”

-

**_Monday, October 9_ **

Louis’ sitting at work when it happens. Admittedly, very antsy at the moment since he’s seeing Harry in less than an hour and he hasn’t seen him since that night in his hotel room. Which also happened to be the day he realized he’s in love with him. 

But, back to the point, Louis’ sitting at his desk, spinning in his chair with a belly full of nerves when his laptop pings with an email. 

He stops his spinning, clicking on the tab that has email open in it, expecting to see a reply from none other than Miss Lawrence, when he sees something that almost makes him throw up. 

From: [ strobes@private-eye.co.uk ](mailto:strobes@private-eye.co.uk)

Subject: Editorial Position

_Hello Mr. Tomlinson,_

_This is Ian Hislop at the Private Eye. I’m emailing you regarding the application you submitted to us a little over two weeks ago. You’ve applied for the position of being one of the writers for our magazine, but after reading over your qualifications and talking to your current employer, we’ve thought it best to offer you a job as Editorial Assistant._

_There is a likely chance you will get either job if your interview goes well. Please contact me so we can find the best time for both of us._

_Best Regards,  
_ _Ian Hislop  
_ _Private Eye Editor  
_ _6 Carlisle Street  
_ _+44 (0)20 7437 4017_

Louis doesn’t know how long he stares at the email. It must’ve been a long time, though, since the only thing pulling him out of it is the alarm on his phone to make sure he meets Harry on time. 

He’s flying out of his chair then, shoving things into his bag as quickly as possible, not even bothering to reply to the email yet. He’s not sure he would even be able to. Can’t even think of anything other than _I have to tell Harry_ because Harry is the only one he told that he even applied. 

And now he feels like his heart may fly out of his chest if he doesn’t tell Harry as soon as possible, doesn’t share this information with him as soon as he sees him. It already feels wrong that he hasn’t told him yet, but he’s getting closer and closer as he runs down the street, people making annoyed noises at him for being so inconvenient. 

He can hear one of his favorite songs playing, the very beginning echoing in his head. 

_I just wanna shine like the sun when it comes up_

He can see the café ahead of him, the soft lighting above the door just now turning on since the sun is setting. 

_Run the city from the rooftops_

There might be tears in his eyes, maybe from the wind practically slapping him in the face, or maybe because this is the most surreal moment of his life. 

Harry’s just now walking up to the door from the side parking lot, head down and hands holding onto his bag. 

“Harry!” Louis screams to get his attention, hoping he can stop him before he enters the shop. 

_‘Cause today’s gonna be my day_

The other man’s head shoots up and Louis thinks he has super hearing now because he’s pretty sure he just heard Harry’s neck crack. 

“Lou?” He can hear Harry’s soft voice question. 

Louis barrels into him, the last few feet between them disappearing in mere seconds. Harry catches him effortlessly, not even phased when Louis latches onto his neck and hauls himself up so that his feet aren’t touching the ground. 

It feels a bit weird, underneath all of the euphoria he’s feeling. Harry’s always leaned down to him, never even made him get on his tippy toes to be able to be closer to one another. 

On top of that, all Louis can feel is _holy shit,_ and _oh my god._ He just got an email back from his dream job and immediately after, ran into the arms of the man he’s in love with. 

Harry’s saying, “What?” into his ear before Louis can process the fact that he’s been whispering, “I got it, I got it, I got it.”

Harry takes a step to the side, leaning the two against the outside brick wall of the café. Louis slides down his body, leaving Harry’s hands on his hips. 

“Got what, baby, you got what?” Harry reaches a hand up to brush Louis’ fringe out of his eyes and Louis doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into it. 

He beams up at Harry, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m in love with you.” Which isn’t exactly what he’d been going for, but it doesn’t even feel like a big deal at the moment, not with the way Harry is holding him and looking at him. 

“What?” Is all Harry can say in response. His mouth slacks open and his eyes are wide. Louis can feel the way his hands begin to slip away from his waist before they tighten again. “Wait,” he shakes his head, squeezes Louis’ hips, “what?”

Louis leans back before rocking forward again, trusting Harry to not let him fall. “That’s not what I meant to say, but that’s also something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

The grin on Harry’s face is one of the brightest things Louis’ ever seen. He feels like he can’t breathe when looking at him straight on, but isn’t able to look away. He hadn’t really _not_ believed Liam when he told him Harry probably felt the same way. 

But seeing his reaction is completely different than just assuming things. “We’ll get back to that,” Harry finally speaks and Louis notices for the first time that 1) Harry has a dimple (how has he never noticed that before?) and 2) said dimple is so deep right now that Louis could probably swim in it. “What’s the other thing you were planning on telling me?”

Louis giggles, covering his mouth with his hand. “Well, you see,” he starts, seemingly not able to just say it. “I mean, I got an email, right?” Harry nods. “And, well,” Louis trails off, “I got the job.”

At first, a look of confusion crosses Harry’s face, not remembering what Louis’ talking about at first. Realization slowly dawns on him. “Wait a minute,” he mutters, pulling Louis close, right up against his chest so that Louis’ hands are sandwiched between them. “You got the job? The Private Eye job?”

“I got the Private Eye job,” Louis agrees, smiling bigger than he has in two years. 

“You got the job.”

“I got the job.”

“Lou, that’s amazing!” Harry pulls him into another crushing hug, lifting him off his feet for the second time that night. “I’m so proud of you,” he mumbles, peppering kisses all over Louis’ face, “I knew you would get it, I’m so proud of you, Lou.”

Louis doesn’t think before he moves next. Doesn’t think about how even though it might be very obvious that Harry loves him back, he hasn’t said it yet. Doesn’t think about the fact that people are walking by almost nonstop right now. Doesn’t even think about how the people inside the café can probably see them through the window that they’re standing right next to. 

He doesn’t think about any of that before he grabs Harry’s face and kisses him. 

And it’s like they’ve been doing it for years, the way Harry kisses him back immediately, no hesitation found. 

Their lips slide together, Harry’s smooth lips against Louis’ chapped ones. Neither seems to mind that or the people that are almost staring while they have their first kiss. 

It doesn’t go any further than that; no tongue or groping. It’s just what Louis thought their first kiss would be like. Full of love and joy and adrenaline. 

They pull apart just far enough to detach their lips and be able to look into one another's eyes. 

Louis feels like he’s been looking into those green eyes for years. 

“So,” Harry murmurs, breaking the quiet between them. “You’re in love with me?” There’s a smirk playing on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Oh, please,” Louis shoves his chest a bit. “As if everyone in the world didn’t already know that.”

“I mean,” Harry brings a hand to his chest, “ _I_ didn’t know that.”

Louis huffs, stomping on Harry’s foot. He yelps but only brings Louis closer - if that’s possible at this point. “It doesn’t seem like you deserve to know considering you _clearly_ don’t love me back.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? And how have you come to that conclusion?”

Louis looks down, knowing he’s being a bit ridiculous on purpose but also really wanting him to say it back. “You haven’t said it back.”

He keeps his head down, not wanting to look up at the other man in fear that he may be annoyed by such an insecure remark. Even when he feels Harry leaning down, lips brushing Louis’ ear. 

“I’m in love with you, too.”

A flush rises to Louis’ cheeks, face nearly splitting because of how wide his smile is. “Yeah?”

He feels Harry’s head move when he nods, “Yeah.”

Louis moves to look up at Harry, not even bothering to hide his smile. “I know which one I want, by the way.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “What?”

“Which flat. I know which flat I want.”

“Wait, what?” Harry straightens up. “You know which one?”

“Yeah, we went to it last week.”

“Well,” Harry tilts his head and Louis can’t help but be reminded of a dog. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Louis rolls his eyes and shoves Harry harder into the brick wall. “Because, you tit, I was afraid you would never speak to me again after I found a place.”

Harry snorts. “Not to be rude, Mr. Tomlinson, but that was a stupid thing to be afraid of.”

“Well, I didn’t very well know that at the time, did I?” 

“Should’ve. According to Niall, I didn’t exactly hide my feelings from you.”

“Also according to Liam.” Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “Well,” Louis mumbles sheepishly, “I told Liam about my predicament, and he just said that you were very obvious at the club that one time because apparently, you didn’t ever look away from me.”

Louis watches Harry’s cheeks turn slightly red. “Damn,” he lifts a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Thought I hid that a bit more.”

“Oh, so you _were_ staring at me the whole night?” Louis asks teasingly, poking the other man in the ribs. “You’re such a stalker.”

“At least we knew each other! Everyone else in the club couldn’t stop staring either but they were just being creepy about it.”

Louis grabs Harry’s hand then, leading them both to where he knows Harry parks every time they meet here. “And you think you looked less creepy?” Louis scoffs. “You literally told me that you went to the bathroom to jerk off, and you think _they_ were more creepy than you?”

Harry follows Louis blindly, not even questioning the sudden movement. “You didn’t seem to mind when I told you,” he whispers into Louis’ ear once he’s leaned down.

A shiver runs through Louis’ body at the feeling, aching for his lips to come just a little closer. Maybe bite a bit. “Whatever.” He lets himself into the passenger seat of Harry’s car, ignoring Harry’s confused look as he walks to the other side.

“Is there any reason we’re getting into my car?” Harry asks once he’s opened the door on the other side. 

“Going to my hotel, of course.”

Harry turns the key and starts the engine. “What for?”

“God,” Louis groans. “You’re so slow sometimes.” Harry says a small, affronted ‘hey!’ before Louis continues. “I’ve gotta start packing all my things, Harold, since you’re gonna let those people know I want the flat.”

“Which flat do you even want?” Harry asks, turning on to the road and heading in the direction of the hotel. 

“The one we saw on Wednesday. Felt like you. It was perfect.”

Louis sees the way Harry turns curious at that, the way he seems to move his ear a little closer. “Felt like me?”

Bringing his feet up onto his seat, Louis mumbles, “Whatever, it’s nothing.”

“No way,” Harry demands. “You have to tell me what that meant.”

“No,” Louis whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s so weird to say, I literally just told you I’m in love with you, like, ten minutes ago.”

“It was less than that, but I don’t care. I’ve been thinking about spending the rest of my life with you since the day we met, so whatever you’re thinking can’t be much worse than that.”

“Well,” Louis says quietly, wrapping his arms around his knees that are pressed against his chest. “It’s just that, while we were there, I could kinda, you know, picture us living there. Like, together.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry’s head snap in his direction. “You’re kidding.”

Louis feels his heart pick up speed at that, not sure whether that’s meant to be a good or bad thing at the moment. “No, ‘m not.”

“Lou,” Harry breathes out. He looks over and sees that Louis’ hunched in on himself. “Oh, no, baby, that’s not a bad thing. That’s the exact reason I picked it. I could see the two of us there.”

“You’re lying, quit making fun of me.”

“Not making fun of you,” Harry reaches a hand out to cover one of Louis’ knees. “Not lying to you, either. I want to put plants by the window. And since you can’t cook, I get to decorate the kitchen however I want, and you can do the living room, since apparently, you have a couch to put in there.”

Harry keeps talking for a minute longer, saying all the things he’s thought about. Louis can feel tears welling up in his eyes, feels the burn in his throat. Harry loves him back. He still isn’t sure if that’s entirely possible, but he’ll take it for as long as he can. 

Which is, hopefully, the rest of his life.

-

_**Sunday, December 3** _

Louis’ sitting in the corner of his couch, holding a book open in front of him. He’s been reading a lot more ever since he and Harry started dating (which they decided was October 9th, since neither of them asked each other out after confessing their love).

He’s lived in his flat for almost two months now, having moved in six days after he told Harry he wanted it. Harry’s not officially moved in with him yet, though most of his things are here and he spends the night more often than not. 

Like today. Harry should be coming over after his Sunday errands that are really just Harry’s guilty pleasures. Including going to the gym, cooking Niall breakfast, stopping the local bookstore, and sometimes picking up takeout for either lunch or dinner.

It’s almost seven o’clock now, Louis notices. Harry should be coming through the door in five, four, three, two…

“Hey!” Harry’s naturally quiet voice is always louder when he first enters the flat, making sure to get Louis’ attention. “I’m home, brought some takeout, and also got a new book today that I think you’ll like. You’re gonna have to wait for me to read it first, though.”

Louis smiles into his book, no longer reading as he listens to his boyfriend’s ramble. He has news for him that he’s been keeping to himself for a little over two weeks now. Nothing was official until today, which Louis thinks is odd since it’s a Sunday.

He gets up from the couch, setting his book down on the table and heading for the kitchen where he knows Harry is separating their takeout onto plates. 

Harry smiles when he sees him enter the kitchen. “Hi, baby.”

“Hey,” Louis smiles softly, coming up behind Harry to wrap his arms around his waist. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too. What have you been up to today?”

Louis hums, waiting to answer for a moment. He can feel Harry’s, now more pronounced, back muscles move while he moves around their food. “Got a promotion,” he mumbles.

“That’s great, Lou,” Harry says joyfully at first. Louis smiles at that, having known that Harry doesn’t really process things until he’s already answered sometimes. He feels Harry freeze after roughly three seconds. “Wait.”

Harry whips around, gripping Louis by his shoulders and staring at him with wide eyes. “You what?”

Louis giggles, nodding and leaning into Harry. “I got a promotion. Ian retired and they gave me the position,” he explains giddily. He’s been waiting to tell Harry for so long now but wanted to surprise him once he finally secured the position. 

“Louis!” Harry nearly screams, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and lifting him. “Baby, that’s so amazing, holy shit! Fuck, we’re practically rich, aren’t we?”

Louis closes his eyes when Harry starts spinning them, burying his face into his neck. 

He loves when Harry says that. _We._ Because everything they do, even individually, is just as much of a success for the other. Even after less than two months. Louis wouldn’t want it any other way, though. Quite likes the idea of spending forever with Harry.

“Yeah,” he breathes into Harry’s neck. “We are. Especially with you being in charge of your firm now, since your boss retired a month ago. Holy shit, how are we this lucky?”

Harry stops spinning them, setting Louis down so that his back is pressed against the counter. He opens his mouth to say something, but Louis will never know what it was. 

Because he interrupts him before he can say anything and blurts out, “When are you moving in with me?”

And Harry seems a bit shocked by that question, face stunned and brows furrowed a bit. “Do I not already?”

“No,” Louis says, but it comes out more like a question. “You still live with Niall.”

Harry’s face smooths into a smile once again. “Only technically.”

Louis feels so confused. “What’s that mean?”

“Well,” Harry starts, “our lease doesn’t end until the end of the year, so I still pay the bills but I rarely stay there, you know that.”

“But,” Louis pauses. “You cook him breakfast every Sunday?”

“Baby,” Harry sighs exasperatedly, “did you not eat breakfast this morning?”

Louis’s head tilts to the side. “I did. You made me waffles.”

“So what makes you think I did that, and then also went to cook Niall breakfast?”

Louis doesn’t speak for a minute. Is he the dumbest person on earth, or what? How had he not realized that Harry’s living with him? He knows that Harry is here every day of the week, and spends the night every time, but he never really thought of it as _living together._

Oh my god, they’re living together. 

“We’re living together,” Louis says brightly, looking up at Harry with what Harry describes as his angel smile. 

“Yes, baby, we’re living together,” Harry grins, leaning down to press his forehead against Louis’. “Now, I think it’s about time we talk about getting a dog.”

“Who said we’re getting a dog?” 

Louis participates in the banter, of course he does, but all he can think is _we_ and about how much happier he’s been ever since meeting Harry and getting a new job and _we._

Louis quite likes being a part of a ‘ _we’._


End file.
